Haunted Hikes: Spine-Tingling Tales and Trails from North America's National Parks

CALIFORNIA AND HAWAII SPINE-TINGLING TALES AND TRAILS FROM NORTH AMERICA’S NATIONAL PARKS ANDREA LANKFORD SPINE-TI...

Author: Andrea Lankford

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CALIFORNIA AND HAWAII

SPINE-TINGLING TALES AND TRAILS FROM

NORTH AMERICA’S NATIONAL PARKS

ANDREA LANKFORD

SPINE-TINGLING TALES AND TRAILS FROM

NORTH AMERICA’S NATIONAL PARKS

ANDREA LANKFORD

Copyright © 2006 by Andrea Lankford All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part or in any form or format without written permission of the publisher.

Published by: Santa Monica Press LLC P.O. Box 1076 Santa Monica, CA 90406-1076 1-800-784-9553 www.santamonicapress.com [email protected] Printed in the United States Santa Monica Press books are available at special quantity discounts when purchased in bulk by corporations, organizations, or groups. Please call our Special Sales department at 1-800-784-9553. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Lankford, Andrea. Haunted hikes : spine tingling tales and trails from North America’s national parks / Andrea Lankford. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-59580-009-3 1. National parks and reserves--United States--Anecdotes. 2. Haunted places--United States--Anecdotes. 3. Ghosts--United States--Anecdotes. 4. Parapsychology--United States--Anecdotes. 5. United States--History, Local--Anecdotes. 6. National parks and reserves--United States--Guidebooks. 7. Trails--United States--Guidebooks. 8. Hiking-United States--Guidebooks. 9. United States--Guidebooks. I. Title. E160.L363 2006 917.304’931--dc22 2005033239

Cover and interior design by Future Studio Front cover photograph courtesy of SuperStock, Inc.

For the dead yet still restless For the lost and not found You may be gone But you won’t be forgotten . . . So please don’t hurt me

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CONTENTS PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8 ABOUT THIS GUIDE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10 California and Hawaii Yosemite. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . California . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19 Death Valley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . California . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .34 Joshua Tree . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . California . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .44 Channel Islands . . . . . . . . . . . . . California . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .52 Hawaii Volcanoes . . . . . . . . . . . . Hawaii . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .60 Haleakala. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hawaii . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .64 Desert Southwest Lake Mead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nevada . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .69 Mesa Verde . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Colorado . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .74 Canyonlands. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Utah . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .80 Glen Canyon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Utah /Arizona . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .84 Grand Canyon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Arizona . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .87 Petrified Forest . . . . . . . . . . . . . Arizona . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .100 Carlsbad Caverns. . . . . . . . . . . . New Mexico . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .105 Big Bend . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Texas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .106 Deep South Natchez Trace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tennessee/Mississippi . . . . . . . .119 Jean Lafitte/Chalmette. . . . . . . . Louisiana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .123 Big Thicket. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Texas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .127 Everglades . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Florida . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .134 Biscayne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Florida . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .141 Big Cypress . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Florida . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .144 Virgin Islands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands . . .147 Eastern Mountains Big South Fork . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tennessee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .155 Great Smoky Mountains . . . . . . . Tennessee/North Carolina . . . . . .161 Blue Ridge Parkway . . . . . . . . . . North Carolina/Virginia . . . . . . . .170 Shenandoah . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Virginia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .179 New River Gorge . . . . . . . . . . . . West Virginia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .184

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CONTENTS

Harpers Ferry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . West Virginia/Maryland . . . . . . . .191 Appalachian Trail . . . . . . . . . . . . Vermont . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .196 Mammoth Cave . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kentucky . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .201 Northeast and Mid Atlantic Cape Hatteras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . North Carolina . . . . . . . . . . . . . .213 New Jersey Pinelands . . . . . . . . New Jersey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .221 Indiana Dunes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Indiana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .226 Effigy Mounds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Iowa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .230 C & O Canal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Maryland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .234 Pictured Rocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michigan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .237 Isle Royale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michigan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .241 Rocky Mountains Wind Cave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . South Dakota . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .253 Great Sand Dunes . . . . . . . . . . . Colorado . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .258 Rocky Mountain . . . . . . . . . . . . . Colorado . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .264 Yellowstone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wyoming . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .274 Glacier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Montana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .284 Canada and Alaska Waterton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . British Columbia . . . . . . . . . . . . .293 Banff . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . British Columbia . . . . . . . . . . . . .296 Nahanni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Northwest Territories . . . . . . . . .302 Klondike/Chilkoot Trail . . . . . . . . Alaska/Yukon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .305 Pukaskwa. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ontario . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .314 Pacific Northwest Redwood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . California . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .321 Oregon Caves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oregon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .325 Mount Rainier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Washington . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .331 Olympic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Washington . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .338 Crater Lake . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oregon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .351 REFERENCES

AND

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .363

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .371 PHOTO CREDITS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .373

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PREFACE f you’ve been to many national parks, you’ve probably noticed a few things. For one, each park has its own personality. Some are showoffs—their waterfalls, snowy peaks, and wild flowers displayed with a vain arrogance. Some are subtle—their unique charms hidden from the philistines. And some carry themselves with a courtly manner— their sublime majesty self-evident. Nearly all parks have a spiritual side. They are temples of trees and cathedrals of stone, and they redeem our distracted souls before we return to our frazzled, complicated world of interstates, office cubicles, and shopping malls. Yet, when a predatory shadow follows a fast-moving cloud, when those strange noises begin just as night beats down the day, or when the noon sun allows no escape from its hot and piercing glare, even the most benign and enchanting landscape can turn on you. What was gorgeous and welcoming just a moment before suddenly seems vaguely disturbing, even menacing. Park rangers are down-to-earth, practical people. Two thousand of them are law enforcement officers. Many have degrees in the biological sciences. As a rule, they aren’t prone to superstition. I believe I am no exception. For 12 years, I worked as a law enforcement/search-and-rescue ranger in some of the world’s busiest and most beautiful national parks. I have a science degree in Forestry. A fan of logic and critical thinking, I prefer cold, hard facts over warm, fuzzy sentimentalities. But I have seen and heard things that have unsettled me. People I respect who claim to have seen a ghost. Natural phenomena that, although scientists have studied them for decades, remain unexplained. Savage murders that remain unsolved. Bizarre incidents so odd you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. And, most frightening to me, I know of places that seem to hold grudges—alluring, hypnotic landscapes that appear to be seeking retribution for trespasses made against them. If a sudden and tragic death can leave its mark on a place, then national parks have earned the right to be haunted. Every year, people die inside national parks. Very few of these people are fortunate enough

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PREFACE

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to go in their sleep. With the help of park rangers, historians, and local residents, I have tracked down the most intriguing paranormal and mysterious events that have transpired in North America’s national parks and compiled them into one book. There is no other hiking guide like it. Whether you read this in your tent by the light of a headlamp or while curled up in a chair in a dark corner of the hotel lobby, Haunted Hikes has a trip to match your fitness level. A good number of trails are wheelchair accessible while a few require technical rock climbing skills and equipment. There are trails that can be traveled by bicycle, snowshoes, skis, four-wheel-drive, and by kayak. Some are even popular with kids. And, you’ll find plenty of multi-day treks for intrepid backpackers eager to spend a lonely night on a haunted trail. But when the sky goes black and the coyotes begin to howl, don’t say I didn’t warn you. There are things that go bump in the park.

—ANDREA LANKFORD

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ABOUT THIS GUIDE The Stories Park narratives include Native American mythology, pioneer folklore, and modern myths as well as events documented in government reports, newspaper accounts, and historical journals. There are also many testimonies of eyewitness accounts, made by several people who I know personally. I respect these people and find their stories to be the most chilling. Phrases such as “people say,” “according to legend,” and “it has been written,” signify that I was unable to determine the original source of the story and thus consider the credibility or historical accuracy to be controversial. Nor do I put much faith in anonymous reports posted on Internet blogs or websites. But on a few occasions, these web reports were too entertaining to resist sharing them with you. Many of the “legends” in this book have been passed down for several generations. To me, they are integral to a park’s cultural history. We should remember them if only for the lessons they teach us.

The Truth Is Out There, but the Federal Government Won’t Comment on It While researching this book, I ran up against a few National Park Service (NPS) officials who disagreed with my philosophies regarding the importance of park folklore, legends, and eyewitness accounts of the unexplained. Yet, most park service people I spoke with were good humored and more than helpful. Still, prying a quote out of one NPS Public Information Officer was particularly maddening. She told me she could not make any comments whatsoever, officially or unofficially, regarding paranormal or mysterious events that have occurred in her park. Sure, I was a writer calling from California asking questions about the supernatural, I pleaded with her, but I wasn’t a complete wacko, honest. I just wanted to know the truth about what was going on in her park. “We do not document or comment on these things,” she said. This Information Officer worked at a historical park that has

ABOUT THIS GUIDE

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scores of written documents about hauntings. Outside of Mammoth Cave and Gettysburg National Battlefield, it may be the most haunted park in the nation. Some hauntings have been documented before the Civil War, and several modern paranormal events were witnessed by government employees. Despite all of this, the Information Officer refused to respond in any manner to any of my questions concerning any of these tales, even to debunk them. Frustrated by her evasiveness, I resorted to pulling out my “I use to be a ranger” card. It didn’t help any, but she did agree to have the park’s historian contact me. The park service historian was much more helpful and sympathetic; he recommended an excellent book written in 1903, but he also stated that the NPS does not comment on legends, only facts. I explained to him that facts surround every legend, and that’s why I needed his help, to separate the truth from the myth. But the historian still would not comment on any “hearsay” about unexplained phenomena occurring in his park. I could tell the Information Officer had prepped him, and our phone conversation was somewhat tense. So I was stunned when the historian confessed something to me. He was not a skeptic. He, too, had experienced things he could not explain. “But none of them occurred in national parks,” he said. “It’s as if they have scrubbed them clean with bleach.” If that were so, I assured him, then Haunted Hikes proves that the government program to sterilize our national parks has failed.

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The Hikes Next to the name of each hike, you will see a “fright factor” icon. This is based on my initial reaction to the creepiness of the story associated with the trail. Gave me nightmares, and I’d rather not discuss them. I get chills just thinking about it. Very disturbing, but clowns are scarier. Makes seven-year-olds giggle.

MILES: Mileages listed are round-trip unless noted otherwise. EFFORT: A conservative estimate of the trail difficulty level. Easy: A short, well-maintained path with very little hill climbing. Moderate: A mid-sized trail with some hills. Strenuous: Longer trails that are rough or rocky and have several steep climbs. Extreme: Routes that require technical skills, advanced levels of physical fitness, and outdoor survival experience.

ACCESSIBILITY: Special features of the trail, when applicable. Bicycles: Handicapped: Kids: Vehicles:

A path or road bicyclists are allowed to use. A paved trail that is handicapped accessible. Trails and associated stories that older kids might enjoy. A route that can be traveled by motorized cars or 4wheel drives vehicles. Water Route: A route that can be traveled by either canoe, sea kayak, or river raft.

TRAILHEAD: Brief directions on how to reach the trail. DESCRIPTION: A short description of the route. MORE INFO: Best time to visit and important contact information.

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TRAIL MAP(S): With the exception of the hikes rated Strenuous or Extreme, these maps should be enough to get you there and back. However, carrying a good topographic map or a G.P.S. unit is always recommended.

Permits and Fees Expect to pay an entrance fee between $5 and $25 at most park entrance stations. If you are going to visit more than three parks in a year, the $60 yearly pass is a bargain. In most parks, backpackers must acquire a permit before camping overnight. In some cases, these permits are free, but in a few parks, such as the Grand Canyon, a fee may be charged. Visit the park website or stop by the park visitor center for the most up-to-date information on how and where to get an overnight camping permit. Fees are subject to change. The few I mention in the text are based on what was being charged in 2005.

A Few Words About Safety from Your Paranoid Author Seven years have come and gone since I last wore a “Smokey Bear Stetson,” but I will forever be a paranoid park ranger. I have a bad habit of loitering around trailheads and watching the good people of the world prepare for their hikes. I check out their brand new gear. I envy their trendy neon-hued water bottles. I eavesdrop on their happy conversations. I nod or wave at their smiling faces. I wonder if this hike is going to be their last. Something about zipping up body bags does this to a person, I guess. If Haunted Hikes doesn’t scare you straight, nothing will. Although a visit to a national park is, for the most part, a healthy and wholesome experience, you may encounter a variety of hazards, some natural, and some human. So it won’t kill you to do a little homework before you embark on any of the trips rated as Strenuous or Extreme.

This Is Your Homework 1. Study the website for the parks you are visiting and read the safety information. Most parks print a park newsletter that can be down-

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2.

3.

4. 5. 6. 7.

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loaded or you can call or write them and they will send it to you in the mail. These newsletters are an excellent source for the most upto-date safety tips. If you are planning to do a hike listed as Strenuous, Extreme, or you are planning to do a multi-day backpacking trip, get in shape first. One good way to do this is to climb hills or stairs while carrying a fully loaded pack. Purchase a topographic map for longer hikes (six miles or more) and know how to read it. Excellent maps for most parks can be purchased at park visitor centers, many outfitters, and on the Internet. Before attempting a new activity, such as kayaking, take a lesson or ask a more experienced friend to go with you. Check the current weather and trail conditions the day before your trip. Expect the worst anyway and pack accordingly. When you arrive, study all park brochures, signs, and trailhead bulletins as if your life depended on it. When in doubt about anything, ask a park ranger for advice before you go.

Instant Karma Is Going to Getcha Please follow park service rules and regulations when visiting these sites. Obviously, littering, vandalism, and graffiti are way uncool, but you should also resist the urge to burn candles, which could start a wildfire, or to leave behind trinkets that will only turn the site into an eyesore or, as one ranger put it, “a freak magnet.” By the time you finish reading Haunted Hikes my next point will be obvious. National parks, like churches, are sacred places where we should be on our best behavior and show a higher standard of maturity than we might normally demonstrate. I suggest you treat these sites with respect. Or risk the consequences. Do you doubt me? Then consider the true story about the man who blasted buckshot into a 200-year-old saguaro cactus with his shotgun: the cactus dropped one of its heavy arms on the man, killing him instantly.

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Two of the Author’s Biggest Fears FEAR ONE: A former colleague of mine calls me up and says, “Way to go, Lankford. I nearly got myself killed rescuing one of your readers.” FEAR TWO: I end up writing about your ghost in my next edition.

The Author’s Embarrassingly Idealistic Fantasy My readers are the safest, most prepared, Leave-No-Trace hikers in the world.

A Cursed Place—What to Bring? To protect yourself against hexes while hiking a cursed trail, the following options are available. They work best under a waning moon. Choose according to your religious preference. Use at your own risk. Native American: Sage incense. Burn it and wave the smoke around your body and equipment (before you hit the trail). Wiccan: A purple candle. Light it and recite a protection spell (again, please do this at home, not in the park). Pagan: Urine. Pour it on your hands each morning. Voodoo: A cloth poppet stuffed with nettles and inscribed with the name of the curser. Bury it. Hindu: A sorcerer who can throw the curse “upstream.” Tip him well. Catholic: A crucifix, a bible, and the “Armor of God.” Heavy to carry but works great. Organic: Powdered Angelica root. Sprinkle it in your hiking boots and around your tent. Skeptic: Mosquito repellant and a flask of whiskey. Use liberally.


A spooky Yosemite Valley scene.

YOSEMITE Nation’s First Park Ranger Hears Crying Ghost he Yosemite Valley Pioneer Cemetery is a small graveyard. Only 36 of the 45 souls buried there have headstones. In the northwest corner, underneath the shade of five evergreens, a large but otherwise unpretentious hunk of granite marks the grave of the man some consider to be the first park ranger, Galen Clark, who became the park’s first civilian guardian in 1867. For 20 years, Clark patrolled Yosemite as the administration of the new park bounced from federal to state hands and back again. During his time, the ranger planted six sequoia seedlings at a burial plot in the park cemetery. He cared for and watered the trees for 20 years, until he died at the age of 96 in 1910. Today, you can still see where the body of Yosemite’s first park ranger lies, within the roots of the same trees he planted more than 100 years ago. In September 1857, Galen Clark went on “a long tramp” to Grouse Lake, a small alpine lake “eight miles from the present site of Wawona.” While taking a break by the shore, Clark heard a “distinct wailing cry, somewhat like a puppy when lost.” He guessed that the cry was from a dog the Indians had left behind. That night, Clark joined a band of Indians at their hunting camp and asked them about the sound he had heard. Here, in Clark’s own words, is what they told him. “They replied that it was not a dog—that a long time ago an Indian boy had been drowned in the lake, and that every time anyone passed there he always cried after them, and no one dared go into the lake, for [the boy] would catch them by the legs and pull them down and they would be drowned. I then concluded that it must have been some unseen waterfowl that made that cry, and at that time I thought that the Indians were trying to impose on my credulity, but I am now convinced they fully believed the story they told me.” Hike: Grouse Lake via Chilnualna Falls

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The Valley of Death and Evil Spirits ore than 800 miles of trails wind through alpine meadows growing head-high wild flowers under snow-capped peaks and domes of granite. Two of the tallest waterfalls in the world. Giant trees that were alive before Columbus was born. Pleasant summers that are dry and mild. Abundant wildlife. Jewel-toned swimming holes. Mountain streams so pristine that they threaten to put the water purification industry out of business. A trip to Yosemite National Park will make you wonder if you’ve died and gone to hiker heaven. The first white men to see the place were duly impressed. On March 27, 1851, the Mariposa Battalion, a group of soldiers in pursuit of a band of Indian “marauders,” emerged from the forest at what is now Discovery Point and gazed down into Yosemite Valley for the first time.

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An amazing waterfall the Indians called Po-ho-no poured over the cliff and, as one soldier, Dr. Lafayette Bunnell, later recalled, the cliff’s granite spires were softened by the gossamer haze created by the falling water. This sublime testimony to the “power and glory of a Supreme being” so exalted the men it brought tears to their eyes. Their Indian guides were less charmed by the scenery. To them, the enchanting landscape the white men were about to enter was not a paradise on earth, but a “valley of death and evil spirits.” The Ahwahneechee, Yosemite’s original inhabitants, lived where other Native Americans feared to tread, a land they called Ahwahnee or “place of a gaping mouth.” They had a reputation for being fierce warriors. Dr. Bunnell of the Mariposa Battalion christened them “the Yosemites,” an English mispronunciation and amalgamation of the Ahwahneechee words for “grizzly bears” and “some among them are killers.”

The valley of death and evil spirits.

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Following several skirmishes between Native Americans and white miners, the United States Army formed the Mariposa Battalion for the purpose of forcing the Ahwahneechee out of Yosemite Valley. In exchange for their homeland, the Battalion offered the tribe some reservation land near Fresno. It was an offer the Ahwahneechee leader could not accept. Chief Tenaya was not the obsequious type. When he was young man, a grizzly bear had attacked him. (Though the less dangerous black bears are frequently seen in the park today, the last Yosemite grizzly was shot by a white hunter in 1895.) Nearly bleeding to death from his wounds, Tenaya survived the attack by slaying the grizzly with nothing more than the force of his will and a dead tree limb. In the spring of 1851, after a series of violent raids, village burnings, and failed negotiations, a soldier in the Mariposa Battalion killed Tenaya’s son. Tenaya himself was captured soon after. The soldiers marched their captive into camp, and the old chief saw the body of his youngest and favorite son. After his initial outburst of grief, Tenaya fell into a sullen and bitter protest, refusing to eat or speak until days later, when the angry chief broke his silence to issue this impassioned curse to Captain John Bowling of the Mariposa Battalion: “When I am dead I will call to my people . . . They shall hear me in their sleep, and come to avenge the death of the chief and his son. Yes sir, American, my spirit will make trouble for you and your people, as you have caused trouble to me and my people. With the wizards I will follow the white man and make them fear me. You may kill me sir Captain, but you shall not live in peace. I will not leave my home but will be with the spirits among the rocks, the waterfalls, in the river and in the winds; wheresoever you will go, I will be with you. You will not see me, but you will feel the spirit of the old chief and grow cold.” Out of pity and respect for the noble chief, Captain Bowling did not kill Tenaya. The Mariposa Battalion rounded up the rest of the Ahwahneechee and moved the tribe to the reservation. Two years later, Tenaya returned to Yosemite Valley where he was stoned to death by a warrior from a neighboring tribe.

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A Cursed Canyon he epicenter of Tenaya’s curse appears to lie deep within the bowels of the park, in the canyon named after him. Tenaya Canyon, a slot in the granite running from Tenaya Lake to Yosemite Valley, most park rangers agree, is a place where a disproportionate number of hikers get into trouble. People have drowned in the creek, rappelled off the end of their climbing ropes, experienced violent epileptic seizures, become lost for days, succumbed to hypothermia, and fallen to their deaths while hiking there. Even Yosemite’s most renowned champion, John Muir, fell and was knocked unconscious while scaling the cliffs above a shadowy passage known as “the narrows.” Search and Rescue personnel do not seem to be immune to the curse of “Yosemite’s Bermuda Triangle.” In the seventies, a ranger and a rescue pilot were searching for an injured hiker when the pilot succumbed to a sudden episode of vertigo and nearly crashed the helicopter into the canyon wall. As recently as August 2004, a rescuer broke his leg while searching the banks of Tenaya Creek for a missing woman. In one case, the curse of Chief Tenaya couldn’t have befallen upon a better person. On October, Friday the 13, 1995, a former member of an outlaw motorcycle gang kidnapped a female campground

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The entrance to Tenaya Canyon.

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ranger by threatening her with a stun gun. Phil Lund, a 6′ 1″, 190pound ex-con, forced the petite ranger to drive him to a remote location not far from Tenaya Lake where he walked her out into the forest, pushed her down on her knees, and ordered her to put on an Indian squaw costume and a pair of handcuffs. The ranger chose to fight for her life. In her brutal and desperate struggle, she broke a finger in the process of clawing Lund’s hands from around her throat and mouth. Eventually, she overwhelmed her attacker by pulling a chunk of hair out of his scalp and kicking him in the face. With his quarry well on her way to the nearest payphone, Lund had gone from predatory kidnapper to desperate fugitive. After several days of intense searching, rangers feared Lund had slipped through their dragnet of cops, helicopters, and bloodhounds. However, there is no escaping your destiny, especially in Tenaya Canyon. Lacking rock climbing equipment, Lund entered the narrows by sliding down the vertical terraces on his back. When he reached a 30-foot ledge, he jumped, cushioning his fall by landing into a puddle. Further down the canyon, Lund peered over the edge of a dry waterfall and discovered that he was stuck between a rock and a high place—a 70-foot drop-off and the 30-foot cliff of glacier-polished granite he lacked the skills to climb. As he was engulfed by the darkness on his first of many nights in the narrows of Tenaya Canyon, one can only hope Lund felt “the spirit of the old chief and grew cold.” On the eleventh night after Lund’s failed kidnapping, a rock climber reported to rangers that while rock climbing near Tenaya Canyon he heard a man screaming for help. The man was trapped in the narrows. And he looked a lot like that dude whose face was on all the wanted posters. At first light, park rangers wearing bulletproof vests and carrying high-powered rifles jumped into a helicopter bound for Tenaya Canyon. The rangers had no trouble spotting their fugitive from the air. Lund was waving his arms and yelling for help. Instead of a violent brute intent on evading the law, rangers found a pathetic and starving man who had survived for 12 days by drinking water out of a muddy puddle. Despite the handcuffs, Lund couldn’t have been happier to see them. He would rather risk spending the rest of his life in federal prison than spend one more night in Tenaya Canyon. Hike: Tenaya Canyon


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Tenaya’s Spirit Stirred by Government Bureaucracy n Yosemite Valley, there is a replica of a Miwok village where park visitors can learn more about the culture of the descendants of Chief Tenaya’s people. Today, there is only one living member of the Miwok tribe who was born in Yosemite Valley. His name is Jay Johnson. A former park service maintenance employee, Johnson lived and worked his entire life in Yosemite until he retired at the close of 1996. Park service regulations require employees to move out of their government homes once they quit or retire. Johnson warned park managers that when the last Yosemite-born Indian left the park, according to Ahwahneechee legends, disaster would follow. Of course, the bureaucrats blew him off. During the early morning hours of January 1, 1997, within days of Johnson’s December retirement and move to outside the park, a freakishly warm storm dumped inches of rain on the snow pack at the high elevations. The resulting snow melt created a massive flood that sent a deluge of water, rocks, and uprooted trees down the Merced River. The swollen river escaped its banks and all three roads leading out of the valley were blocked by downed trees, washed out roadways, and high water. Two thousand employees and park visitors were trapped for days. Sewer lines were destroyed. Electrical service had to be shut down. Nine road bridges suffered major damage. No one was killed, but 350 motel and cabin units, 450 campsites, and 200 employee quarters were flooded and had to be removed. It was the most damaging flood in Yosemite’s history. The cost of repair came to $178 million. Ten months after the flood, the National Park Service entered an agreement with the American Indian Council allowing for the development of a traditional Indian Village in Yosemite Valley. After many frustrating years fighting a government bureaucracy for rights to conduct their tribal ceremonies inside the park, the Miwok joined park officials in celebrating the agreement. Tribal elder Jay Johnson was there for the ceremony. Hike: Central Valley Loop

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Yosemite’s Haunted Waterfalls he Ahwahneechee name for Bridalveil Falls is Po-ho-no, which means “spirit of an evil wind.” According to their legends, an old woman and a young girl were picking berries near the top of the falls when the maiden became entranced by the beauty of the swirling currents and misty rainbows. The young maiden entered the water and waded downstream. As if hypnotized, she walked to the brink of the roaring falls where a mischievous wind pushed her off the edge. She died on the rocks at the base of the falls. Her death was blamed on Poho-no, an evil wind who hungers for victims. This tale is reported as legend, but odds are the tragic story was inspired by an actual fatality. Even today, despite the many warning signs and overlooks fortified with safety railings, Yosemite waterfalls continue to claim the lives of people who, after becoming captivated by the emerald pools, are swept over the edge of the falls to a watery plunge abruptly ended by the rocks below. Hike: Bridalveil Falls

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Yosemite’s original inhabitants believed an evil spirit haunted Bridalveil Falls.


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Murder on the Way to Mirror Lake nfortunately, some of Yosemite’s evil spirits are quite human. On March 16, 1985, two hikers walking the northern side of the trail to Mirror Lake reached a fork in the trail where a dirt path enters the trees. In front of them, walked another hiker, Helli Osbouro, a young blonde from the Netherlands. The hikers stayed on the main trail but Osbouro took the path leading behind a large granite boulder the size of your living room. Within seconds of Osbouro entering the woods, the hikers heard a gut-wrenching scream. Their first thought was that the lady hiker in front of them had been attacked by a mountain lion. Osbouro stumbled out of the woods and collapsed face down on the trail right in front of the hikers. Covered in her own blood and dying, the young woman had been stabbed seven times, including once in the breast and once in the pubic area. Within minutes of the stabbing, ranger Fred Elchlepp encountered a strange man hiking the trail not far from the murder scene. The man was tall, thin, and extremely pale. He was abnormally calm even though a ranger was pointing a gun at him. He wore gloves although it was a warm day. Ranger Elchlepp identified the man as a possible suspect of the murder and checked his hands for blood. The man was clean. The F.B.I. investigated this suspect, a security guard from Sacramento, for months. They never found enough evidence to link the strange man to the murder. A decade after Osbouro was killed, this man committed suicide in his kitchen. Elchlepp believes the murderer is dead, but the crime remains unsolved. The site of the Helli Osbouro stabbing.

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Unless your spouse has recently taken out a lucrative life insurance policy on you, the odds of being murdered in a national park are very slim. Yet, Helli Osbouro, a 21-year-old foreign national, had come to the park alone and had no known enemies. The senseless murder of the young woman who was brutally stabbed in broad daylight by an unseen assailant within 50 yards of several witnesses is still unsettling to the rangers who worked the case. Hike: Mirror Lake

Four Star Haunts osemite has two haunted lodges, and one of them is the most expensive place in the park. The Ahwahnee, Yosemite’s only four star hotel, is where President John F. Kennedy stayed when he visited the park in 1962. During that time, the staff placed a rocking chair in the parlor of Kennedy’s room for the president’s comfort and then removed it after he checked out. Since the Kennedy assassination, according to a hotel press release, housekeepers have seen a moving rocking chair in the suite on the third floor, but when a supervisor enters the room to check on the claim, the rocking chair is gone. The hotel press release also claims that the Ahwahnee’s sixth floor is haunted by a “benign ghostly appearance” of Mary Curry Tressider, a woman who lived on the sixth floor until her death on October 29, 1970. Twenty-seven miles from the hustle and bustle of Yosemite Valley is the stately Wawona Hotel. The white inn has a southern plantation feel and a front porch with rocking chairs and relaxing views of Wawona Meadow. During the 1920s, airplanes carrying wealthy visitors and supplies landed in the grassy fields in front of the hotel. One day, a plane crashed in the meadow, critically injuring the pilot. The pilot was taken to Moore Cottage, one of the hotel’s guest units, where he died. Since then, employees and guests have seen a ghostly figure of a man walking down the stairs inside the cottage. According to the hotel press release, the employees and the guests had no prior knowledge of the historic plane crash before they described the apparition they saw as “a pilot” who wore a leather jacket, leather head gear, goggles, and a white scarf. Hike: Wawona Meadow Loop

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THE HIKES Grouse Lake via Chilnualna Falls MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

15 or 28 Strenuous From Wawona, on Highway 41 just inside park’s south entrance, turn east onto Chilnualna Falls Road. In two miles, you come to a signed parking area. A backpacker’s delight. Grouse Lake is a good destination for a two-day trip and the entire loop to Royal Arch and Buena Vista Lakes (28 miles) is an outstanding three- to five-day trek into some of the best scenery the High Sierra has to offer. From the trailhead, follow the path along the stream. The climbing will be steady but views of Wawona Valley come with the exertion. After visiting Chilnualna Falls (four miles from the trailhead), take the right (southern) trail. A shallow pond surrounded by lodgepole pines and red spruce, Grouse Lake is approximately 3.5 miles from the falls, 7.5 miles from the trailhead. Two paths descend 100 yards to the north shore where there is a primitive campsite.

Chilnualna Falls

BUENA VISTA LAKE

CHILNUALNA LAKES K

CREE

BUENA VISTA PEAK MINNOW LAKE

A LN

A

ROYAL ARCH LAKE

NU

IL

CH

GROUSE LAKE

A

N WO WA

CHILNUALNA FALLS WAWONA DOME

RANGER RO STATION AD

PIONEER YOSEMITE HISTORY CENTER

CRESCENT LAKE

JOHNSON LAKE

PAVED ROAD

WAWONA WAWONA HOTEL

miles km

TRAIL

0 0

1 1

2 2

3

CREEKS & RIVERS LAKES & PONDS

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Tenaya Canyon MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

10 (one-way) Extreme The parking lot at Tenaya Lake on Highway 120. Tenaya Canyon is a rugged adventure for experienced rock climbers or canyoneers. In order to do this trek, you must bring climbing ropes and equipment and have the skill to use them, you must be prepared to stay overnight in case of an emergency, and you must have someone skilled at and experienced in finding routes in your group. You should not go alone. There is a real danger to hiking the narrows, and from my own personal experience as a search-and-rescue ranger, Indian curses are not to be taken lightly. For a shorter and much easier excursion, hike the three-mile loop around Tenaya Lake or take the Mirror Lake Trail (see below) and continue up Tenaya Creek for a short distance. Another option would be to hike the Snow Creek Trail (11.3 miles one-way from Tenaya Lake to Mirror Lake), which historians believe could be the same route taken by Captain Bowling and his men as they pursued Chief Tenaya.

Central Valley Loop MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

6.5 to 13 Easy Bicycles, Handicapped In Yosemite Valley, you can pick up the trail almost anywhere in the Valley as it passes by the Yosemite Lodge, Curry Village, and the Visitor Center. An excellent bike ride and a pleasant hike, this paved path takes in most of the Valley’s classic sights as it meanders along both sides of the Merced River. For a longer loop, cyclists can take the road and hikers can


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Central Valley Loop Mirror Lake Loop

take a wooded path west to the bridge at El Capitan Meadow and return on the South Side Drive. Every bridge you cross on this trail and all four campgrounds were under water during the flood of 1997. At Sentinel Bridge, look for the high water sign and stand next to it. Imagine how it felt to be one of the people trapped in the valley during this storm.

Bridalveil Falls MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

1 Easy The Bridalveil Falls parking lot is on South Side Drive just east of Highway 41. This short hike takes you to the base of the famous waterfall. Despite the warning signs, and the misty breezes, there’s a good chance you’ll witness someone who can’t resist taking a death-defying shower on the slippery rocks under the spray.

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Yosemite National Park Bridalveil Falls, Tenaya Canyon, Wawona Meadow

Mirror Lake MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

2 to 5 Easy Bicycles, Handicapped Start from the parking lot at Curry Stables in Curry Village or ride the shuttle bus to Happy Isles. This loop hike is popular with first time visitors to Yosemite Valley. Most of the trail is paved, but wheelchairs and bikes can go as far as the restrooms at Mirror Lake. (In times of drought, Mirror Lake may be completely dry.) Hikers can extend the loop by taking the path behind the lake that heads up Tenaya Creek. Osbouro’s murder occurred on the north side of the


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trail. Look for the point where a dirt path leaves the bike path and heads into the rocks on its way to the Ahwahnee Hotel. A hole in the concrete marks the site where Osbouro fell. Rangers tell me this patch of concrete was removed for evidence.

Wawona Meadow Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3.5 Easy The Wawona Hotel on Highway 41. From the hotel, cross Highway 41 and get on the paved road that runs through the golf course. The trailhead is about 50 yards from the highway. The path follows an old road around the edge of the Wawona Meadow and eventually crosses the road and enters the forest on its way back to the hotel.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Anytime. Winters may be cold and snowy but are great if you like to ski or snowshoe. Summers can be annoyingly crowded.

Contacts YOSEMITE NATIONAL PARK: 209-372-0200; www.nps.gov/yose YOSEMITE WILDERNESS CENTER: 209-372-0740; www.yosemitesecure.org/wildpermit WAWONA AND AHWAHNEE HOTELS: 559-253-5676; www.YosemitePark.com

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DEATH VALLEY

A moving rock on Racetrack Playa, Death Valley.


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Mother Nature’s Idea of a Practical Joke t first glance, Death Valley does appear to be, well, dead. Take the drive to the overlook at Dante’s View, park your car under Coffin Peak, and see for yourself. Ravens stand guard on the railings as you peer down into a stark, bleached valley surrounded by mountains the color of dried blood. A mile below Dante’s View is Badwater, a murky puddle of salty water, the lowest, driest, and hottest place in the United States. Yet this “wasteland” is full of life. Over 1,000 species of plants live in the park, and spring rainstorms turn barren sand dunes into lush flower gardens. In the heart of the park, Mother Nature plays one of her best practical jokes on mankind. At first, scientists believed magnetic forces were causing the moving rocks of Racetrack Playa to slip and slide around on a muddy flat, leaving behind tracks more than a football field in length. Years later, geologists changed their minds and decided that gravity was responsible. But the gravity theory was discredited when it became clear that the rocks move mostly in an uphill direction. Today’s geologists believe that water runoff from the high elevation turns the playa into mud. Then gale force wind gusts push the rocks across the slippery plane. If the wind were responsible, you would think the rocks would leave behind tracks that were all in the same direction of the prevailing wind patterns. They don’t. Many tracks zigzag all around, while others move in circular patterns. So the wind theory remains unproven, especially since no one has witnessed the rocks move. The inability of science to fully explain the phenomenon has led some to accuse extraterrestrials and bored park rangers of moving the rocks. Hike: Racetrack Playa

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The Creepiest Man in North America n October 1969, some nut job set fire to the park’s brand-new, frontend loader that the maintenance men had left parked on the road to Racetrack Playa. This heinous crime became a cocklebur in the shorts of Death Valley rangers. Intent on snagging the perps responsible, they

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formed a task force. Three weeks later, on October 12th, the trail of evidence led to a raggedy bunch of dirty hippies squatting on a mining homestead in the southwest corner of the park. Twenty-six people were arrested— mostly spaced-out women who urinated in front of the officers without a hint of modesty. Then there was this little, wild-eyed dude who a highway patrolman found hiding in a cabinet under the bathroom sink. The guy claimed to be Jesus Christ. He could control the women with just one look. As the officers walked the little handcuffed man to the ranger trucks, his dark pupils saw that park rangers were involved in the raid. “How come you guys are hassling me?” the hippie dude said to the rangers. “You should be out telling people about the flowers and the animals.” It would be days before the Death Valley task force realized they had apprehended the creepiest man in North America—Charles Manson. During the investigations that followed, an informant told the authorities that two men and one woman had been murdered and buried near the hippie outpost at Barker Ranch. The informant said that Manson had taken a walk with a girl out into the desert and, in less than an hour, Charlie returned but the girl did not. Law enforcement searched the surrounding area. They found food caches and dugout shelters, but no bodies. Today, Barker Ranch is inside the park boundary. People are welcome to visit the site and even camp there. By day, the place doesn’t seem so sinister. But those brave enough or crazy enough to stay overnight at Barker Ranch have reported hearing eerie howls, encountering a glaring stranger wearing a white shirt, and being haunted by nightmares of becoming part of the “Family.” In “Death Valley Days: Notes from a Manson Family Vacation” in the Sacramento News & Review, R.V. Scheide wrote about the time he traveled to the ranch on his motorcycle. At Barker Ranch, Scheide bumped his head on the barbed wire as he opened the gate to the compound. Ignoring the minor injury, Scheide entered the stone house, checked out the toilet filled with concrete, and signed the guest book. Back at his bike, Scheide examined his reflection in the rearview mirror. A surprising amount of blood had formed a thick clot in the center of his forehead. Scheide scrubbed the dried blood off his head and looked in the mirror. What he saw gave him quite a jolt. The cut was in

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the shape of an X, just like the ones Manson Family members carved into their foreheads during their murder trails. Not too far from Barker Ranch is another dilapidated mining camp, Meyer’s Ranch. The Manson family kept their distance from this cabin because Manson believed “the ghost of Bill Meyers still lived there.” Hike: Barker Ranch via Warm Springs

The Bottomless Pit t’s 30 feet long, five feet across, and at least 460 feet deep. So deep the blue water appears black. So deep, that no one has been able to dive far enough to reach the bottom of it. So deep, it can hide the bodies of two young men for an eternity. So deep, they call it the Devil’s Hole. Divers Paul Giancontieri and David Rose entered Devil’s Hole in 1965 and never resurfaced. Forty-five rangers and volunteer divers spent long hours searching the cavern, diving to depths of 315 feet, but the only sign of the boys they found was a decompression chart and a dimly lit flashlight. Newspapers across the country reported the tragic story of the two young scuba divers who vanished while diving the Devil’s Hole. These newspaper accounts and legends of an ancient civilization hidden in the caverns under Death Valley may have inspired Charles Manson to bring his “family” to Barker Ranch in 1969. Manson believed that somewhere in Death Valley there was a “hole” leading to the “bottomless pit” mentioned in Revelation. The Manson Family scoured the desert searching for this portal to an underground world where they could escape the “Helter Skelter” of the coming apocalypse. Manson suspected the Devil’s Hole might be the bottomless pit mentioned in the bible, but that the United States government was keeping this a secret. Scientists have yet to chart the bottom of this limestone cavern. Replenished by a warm water aquifer, the briny water is a constant 92 degrees. For 10,000 years, an animal found nowhere else in the world, the endangered Desert Pupfish, has lived a tenuous existence in the waters of the Devil’s Hole. Hike: Devil’s Hole

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Hang ’em High. Hang ’em Twice. uring the early 1900s, gold and other minerals drew prospectors deep into the darkest, driest, and hottest corners of Death Valley. Many miners died while hunting for these riches, and their bones were left scattered all over the desert. In 1905, a Death Valley prospector randomly struck a pickax into the earth. When he pulled the pick out of the ground, a human skull came up with it. In 1907, 16 men died in one week as they were crossing the desert to get to Skidoo, one of Death Valley’s most prosperous gold mines. By 1908, Skidoo, population 700, was a booming town providing all the makings of a good Western—a saloon, a brothel, a bank, and a drunk with a gun. On April 22, 1908 at 2:00 in the afternoon, Joe “Hootch” Simson ended a bender by pointing a pistol at banker Jim Arnold and demanding $20. When the banker refused, Hooch said, “Do you have anything against me, Jim?” Arnold replied, “No, Joe, I’ve got nothing against you.” Hooch shot him anyway. The banker died that evening, but Hooch showed no remorse. “Look at the fun I had doing it,” he told a friend. Justice was swift. Two days later, an angry mob approached the guardhouse at midnight and pointed their pistols at the town deputy. In the morning, Hooch was hanging from the nearest telephone pole. A reporter came all the way from Los Angeles to get the story, but by the time the newspaperman arrived, it was too late to take photographs of the lynched murderer because he’d already been buried. But the citizens of Skidoo were nothing if not obliging. They dug Hooch up and hung him again so the photographer from L.A. could get his photo. Planning your visit for April 22nd may increase your chances of hearing the ghosts of Skidoo. One man who visited the town site on the anniversary date of Arnold’s murder heard the voices of two men arguing. The voices seemed to be moving down the old streets of the town following the same route the lynch mob would have taken as they dragged Hooch to the improvised gallows. Others have heard gunshots at 2:00 P.M.; the same time Hooch put a bullet in the banker’s chest. Hike: Skidoo Ghost Town

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THE HIKES Racetrack Playa MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.5 to 1 Easy Kids, Vehicles Racetrack Valley Road begins at Ubehebe Crater at the northern end of the park. The wash-board road to Racetrack Playa can be traveled by two-wheel-drive vehicles as long as the park is experiencing dry weather, which is most of the time. (If the playa is wet or muddy, you cannot walk out onto it; the road is also subject to flash flooding during stormy weather.) After driving a rough, kidney-busting, 27 miles out to the Racetrack, you will be ready to run out onto the desert playa, an otherworldly place in the middle of nowhere. Most of the sliding rocks are found on the southern end. Bring the camera. It is fun to capture the paths of the sliding rocks on film.

Barker Ranch via Warm Springs Canyon MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

16 (one-way) Extreme Vehicles From Badwater Road, the Warm Springs Canyon Road heads west to an old mining community at the oasis of Warm Springs. Lukewarm springs are behind the abandoned houses if you’re ready for a soak. It is a brutal, exposed-to-the-elements route past this point. Only skilled off-road drivers with a high clearance vehicle should drive past Warm Springs. This park is extremely unforgiving. Do your homework for this route even if you drive it.

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HAUNTED HIKES

Death Valley National Park Racetrack Playa, Skidoo Ghost Town, Barker Ranch, Devil’s Hole

DESCRIPTION:

A visit to Barker Ranch will certainly feel like an adventure deep into the black heart of Death Valley. From Warm Springs, you follow a steep four-wheel-drive road that brings you to a stunning desert basin, in the center of which stands the strange yet beautiful Striped Butte. Continue past the butte to the first of two desert cabins along this road. These rustic, rat-infested cabins are popular with four-wheelers, and make excellent base camps for a 12-mile round-trip day hike to Barker. Backpackers can avoid humping all their gear

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The author at Barker Ranch.

over the pass by camping near these cabins instead of at Barker Ranch. In either case, top off your water supply at the springs here. The numerous side roads can be confusing. You must be good at reading topographic maps and the terrain in order to find your way. The consequences of getting lost here have been deadly. From the first cabin made of stone, you descend a little before making the climb up to Mengel Pass, where there is a stone tower marking the final resting site of Carl Mengel, a prospector who lost a leg in a mining accident. Descend the other side of the pass, following an intimidating four-wheel-drive road into Goler Wash. (Advanced four-wheel-drive enthusiasts are usually able to drive to Panamint Valley via Goler Wash, but check current conditions before you try to cross the range this way.) East of the park boundary, at an unsigned junction marked by historic trash, go left (south). At first, the road seems like it might be the wrong way. A cluster of shady cottonwood trees tells you this is the right track. Less than a mile

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HAUNTED HIKES later, the stone buildings of Barker Ranch come into view. There is a spring here and lots to explore. Car camping is allowed just outside of the ranch area. A logbook should be on the kitchen table.

Devil’s Hole MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.4 Easy From Death Valley Junction, the intersection of Highways 127 and 190, head north on 127. Looking for the signs directing you to the Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge, turn right (east) on the dirt road leading into the refuge. (You cannot reach Devil’s Hole during wet weather, as the road will be too muddy.) From the refuge office, continue straight for 3.5 miles. The road will curve, then go straight through a T-intersection. From the T-intersection, drive 1.3 miles to the chain link fence and park. Walk up the old access road 0.2 miles to an old parking area. Devil’s Hole is closed to the public. A fence keeps you out, but a trail takes you to a catwalk and viewing area that allows you to peek down into the bottomless pit. Bring binoculars or a spotting scope if you want to view the pupfish.

Skidoo Ghost Town MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

0.5 Easy Kids, Vehicles From Stovepipe Wells, drive southwest on Highway 190 for nine miles. Turn left onto Emigrant Canyon Road (across 190 from Emigrant Campground). In 8.8 miles, turn left onto the gravel road leading to Skidoo. In 7.5 miles, you’ll come to the NPS interpretive sign that marks the town site.


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DESCRIPTION: At first, it appears there isn’t much to see, but once you begin to stroll through the brush, you’ll begin to find artifacts, pottery shards, rusty tin cans, and mining cables. This historic trash is protected by federal law and wily park rangers. Leave things as you found them so others can enjoy the area. Walk (or drive) the road leading up the hill and to the west and you’ll find some fun and spooky surprises. The Skidoo ghost town is for day use only. Keep a close eye on children. The park service has nets over most of the mineshafts, but Author finds noose inside Death Valley there are still some hazards. On mining cabin near Skidoo mine. your way back to the paved road, stop and take a look at the log cabin on the right side of the Skidoo road. When I visited here in 2005, there was a noose hanging from the rafters!

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Winter, spring, and fall. Summer is the reason they call it Death Valley.

Contacts DEATH VALLEY NATIONAL PARK: 760-786-3200; www.nps.gov/deva ASH MEADOWS WILDLIFE REFUGE: 775-372-5435; http://desertcomplex. fws.gov/ashmeadows

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HAUNTED HIKES

JOSHUA TREE

The Skull Rock of Joshua Tree.

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Twisted Freaks iking in Joshua Tree National Park is a trip into a Dr. Seuss book. The rocks have faces, the trees are spastic, the cacti jump, and the moon looks as if it might talk to you. Inhabited by an appropriate cast of coyotes, roadrunners, and kangaroo rats, this cartoonish landscape is an easy drive from Los Angeles and within R.P.G. range of several military bases. So it attracts more than its fair share of UFOlogists, satanic cults, wannabe Wiccans, scorched marines, and entertainment industry burnouts—all looking for that special place where they can intoxicate themselves into the fourth dimension. Don’t let that stop you from visiting. Lately, a white raven, by all accounts a good omen, has been sighted in the area. And, although I do know one F.B.I. Agent who was chased out of Jumbo Rocks Campground by a deranged man wielding flaming sticks, odds are the worst you have to fear while in Joshua Tree is a wrestling match with a cactus. They don’t call them jumping chollas for nothing. Prying an imbedded cactus bomb out of your skin is an experience that would make even the Marquis de Sade scream. The rock climbing is superb here, and Joshua Tree is one of the few places on earth where you can hike among the gigantic lilies writer Tom Wolfe called “the twisted freaks of the plant world.” During the daylight, Joshua trees resemble the cute and cuddly creatures in a child’s book. At dusk, the story changes and these tortured trees become a desert army of multi-armed contortionists carrying fistfuls of daggers, all of them just waiting for you to fall asleep before they make their move. Then there is the Yucca Man, a woolly monster with a terrible odor that comes out of his secret cave now and then to spook hikers and rock climbers. Hikes: Skull Rock, Oasis of Mara

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Come On Baby Light My Fire or those who prefer not to stay in one of the park’s many campgrounds, there is no shortage of motels along Highway 62 between the towns of Joshua Tree and Twentynine Palms. May I suggest the

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HAUNTED HIKES

Left: Grampire grafitti. Middle: Room 8 of the Joshua Tree Inn. Right: This mirror was in Room 8 during the time of Gram Parsons’s death.

Joshua Tree Inn? A rustic bed and breakfast just outside of the park’s west entrance. Ask for room number eight. Gram Parsons never became a full-blown rock star, but he sure lived and died like one. The man many refer to as the father of country rock, Parsons hung out with the Rolling Stones, and his talent continues to influence many big-name musicians. Although the piney woods of Waycross, Georgia were his home, Parsons preferred the desert stones of Joshua Tree, especially Cap Rock, where he communed with nature, watched for UFOs, and got higher than a Russian satellite. Parsons loved Joshua Tree so much that he and his road manager, Phil Kaufman, made a pact and shook on it. Whichever one of them was the first to die, the survivor would take the other’s body to Joshua Tree and burn it. Two months later, on September 19, 1973, after a three-day binge of morphine and alcohol, Gram Parsons passed out onto the bed in room eight of the Joshua Tree Inn and never got up again. By 4:00 A.M., the 26-year-old musician was dead. Phil Kaufman’s plan to fulfill his promise to Gram Parsons was as brazen as it was intoxicated. As he described in his book, Road Manager Deluxe, Kaufman and a friend borrowed a rundown hearse with no license plates and busted out windows, loaded several bottles of Jack Daniels and a case of beer into the back, and headed for LAX. At the airport, Kaufman met the flatbed truck carrying Parsons’s casket to a plane headed for New Orleans, but Kaufman convinced an airline employee that there had been a last minute change in burial plans. Kaufman was very convincing. A police officer even helped him load the coffin into the back of the unlicensed hearse. It was dark by the time Kaufman and a friend had dragged the

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casket as near to Cap Rock as their inebriated bodies would allow. Kaufman opened the creaking lid, poured five gallons of high-test gasoline, “so he wouldn’t ping” on his friend’s naked corpse, and lit a match. The body “went whoosh” into a gigantic ball of flames that was spotted by rangers who failed to catch the fleeing body snatchers because they were “encumbered by sobriety.” The next day, campers reported “a log burning near the monument.” What remained of Parsons’s smoked corpse was buried in New Orleans. But many believe Cap Rock is where the musician’s soul lies. A few fans claim to have encountered the musician’s spirit in the area, and the north side of the boulders has become an unofficial Gram Parsons shrine. Park rangers are unhappy to report that, every couple of months, they must collect all the pints of Jack Daniels, guitar picks, and flowers set in bong vases that have been left behind by die-hard Parsons fans who they call “grampires.” Parsons’s ghost still hangs out at the Joshua Tree Inn. According to the bedside journal in the “Gram Parsons Room,” the dead musician walks across the pool at 4:00 A.M., the time of his death. The mirror opposite the bed was in the room the night Parsons died. Some say it spins without explanation. Another guest claims the image of Parsons’ face can be seen in the wood grain of the bathroom door, “if you have had at least a pint of tequila and some good smoke.” Hike: Cap Rock

Joshua Tree road sign.

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A Lost Mine and a Missing Skull fter a falling-out with his partner around 1915, miner Johnny Lang hid his gold somewhere near Lost Horse Mine. From time to time, Lang would hike to his cache to retrieve some of his gold to sell for cash. Another miner, Bill Keys, estimated that Lang sold him close to $18,000 worth of gold from this cache between 1917 and 1926. Lang was hiking to this secret cache when he died of exposure to the cold while sleeping in his bedroll along the trail, taking the location of his secret gold cache with him. Bill Keys buried Lang’s body where it was found. Lang rested in peace here until his grave was vandalized sometime in the 1980s. Whether the grave robbers who stole the old miner’s skull were modern-day prospectors looking for clues to the lost gold or just a couple of tweaking Satanists needing a prop we may never know. Hike: Lost Horse Mine

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The trail to Cap Rock.

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Joshua Tree

THE HIKES Skull Rock MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

1.7 Easy Kids Skull Rock parking lot or Jumbo Rocks Campground. The kids will love this one. From the Skull Rock parking lot, this easy loop meanders through an organic playground of monzogranite boulders that proves that nature has a sense of humor. When viewed from the right angle, Skull Rock does indeed earn its name. The loop climbs over boulders and through a desert wash on its way to Jumbo Rocks Campground, one of the most dramatic settings for a campground I have ever

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HAUNTED HIKES seen. When camping here, be sure to set aside some time for UFO watching. Black triangles, amber orbs of light, and disc-shaped flying saucers are often seen zooming the skies above Joshua Tree.

Oasis of Mara MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.5 to 2 Easy Oasis Visitor Center in Twentynine Palms. Every spring and fall, groups of 200 or more vultures stop here during their biannual migrations. At night, they roost in the cottonwood trees outside the main park visitor center. It’s a must-see for fans of carrioneaters. During the day, you can see hundreds of turkey vultures warming their greasy black wings in the morning sun. Not a good place to play dead.

Cap Rock MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.4 Easy Handicapped Cap Rock picnic area, 11 miles from the West Entrance, at the junction of Park Boulevard and Keys Road. This loop is handicapped accessible and there are interpretive signs along the way. For the full Gram Parsons experience, listen to Parsons’s last album, Grievous Angel, on your drive out and stay in room number eight of the Joshua Tree Inn.


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Lost Horse Mine MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

4.5 Moderate To see Lang’s grave, drive 2.5 miles south on Keys View Road from Cap Rock. The gravesite is on the right (west) side of the road just south of the road to the Lost Horse Mine trailhead. The trail follows a historic wagon road to a mine shaft and to the remains of a couple of cabins, one of them belonging to Johnny Lang. There’ll be some mountain views along the way and you’ll see lots of Joshua Trees.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Fall, winter, or spring. Summers are hot.

Contacts JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL PARK: 760-367-5500; www.nps.gov/jotr JOSHUA TREE INN: 760-366-1188

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CHANNEL ISLANDS

Cabrillo’s Memorial is on San Miguel, but the explorer’s final resting spot is a mystery.

The Answer, My Friend, Is Blowing in the Wind an Miguel is the loneliest, windiest, foggiest, and most mysterious of California’s Channel Islands. Archeologists have found over 600 Indian burial mounds and other types of sites, the oldest dated at 11,600 years old, on this island. Spanish vaqueros, or sheep herders, used to warn white ranchers that the Chumash mounds were cursed, and early travel brochures mentioned that voices of chanting Indian women could be heard in the winds of San Miguel, “a place where only the dead hold court.” The shores of the island were once littered with so many shipwrecks that lumber from the unfortunate ships was used to build ranch houses. Portuguese navigator, Juan Rodriquez Cabrillo, fell while beaching his ship on San Miguel in October 1542, and broke his arm. The bones pierced through the skin. The wound became infected with gangrene, and two months later, the man who named San Miguel La Posesion (“the possession”) was dead. Modern historians believe Cabrillo is buried on Santa Cruz or Catalina, two sunnier islands in the Channel Islands chain, but the first and most popular theory places

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Cuyler Harbor, San Miguel.

Cabrillo’s grave on San Miguel where a stone monument to the explorer sits on a lonely knoll overlooking Cuyler Harbor. From 1929 to 1942, Herbert Lester, a fierce individualist with a Humphrey Bogart appeal, managed the San Miguel sheep ranch. In 1930, he brought his much younger wife, Elizabeth, to the island. In her memoir, The Legendary King of San Miguel, Elizabeth Sherman Lester writes of her “heathen isolation” on the windswept slopes. Though she sets up the scene as a plot laid for a Gothic “horror story,” in truth, Elizabeth was “recklessly in love” with “Herbie,” and she adored the beauty and solitude of San Miguel. Living what she called a “charmed life,” Elizabeth raised two daughters on the island, homeschooling them herself. But the violence and fears that came with World War II ended the Lesters’ idyllic seclusion. All supply runs were shut down, the U.S. Navy sent two men to guard the island, and the Lesters were told to evacuate. The constant presence of the Navy annoyed and frustrated Herbert. Tormented by an old war wound and diminishing eyesight, his mood deteriorated. One day, Lester accidentally chopped off two fingers of his left hand while chopping wood. The additional handicap, and the realization he would soon be forced to leave his beloved island,

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turned out to be too much for him. On June 18, 1942, the Navy men found Mr. Lester at his favorite spot, “a grassy swale, where he went to sit and meditate, harking to the sound of the wind,” lying near what is now called Lester Point. Herbert Lester was dead from a self-inflicted bullet wound to the head. They buried him the next day, in a handmade casket, with his favorite gun and a crucifix, near Harris Point. Elizabeth Lester returned to the mainland two weeks later. She settled in Santa Barbara and moved into a rented house that gave her a view of her beloved island, but she never returned to San Miguel. At least not during her lifetime. Today, park employees bunk in a ranger station designed to resemble the old Lester Ranch. The ranger station sits a stone’s throw away from the stone foundations that are all that remains of the Lesters’ once happy home. Ask any park ranger or wildlife biologist who has bunked in this forsaken outpost and there is a good chance he will admit that he has heard “things” in the wind. Volunteer George Roberts suggested as much to me, but he also said it’s easy to imagine all sorts of things when the island is being rattled by a 50-knot gust. However, Roberts confessed that he knew a park employee who had experienced a few unsettling moments during her solo

The trail to Lester Point, San Miguel Island, Channel Islands National Park.


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tours on San Miguel. This woman told him she had seen people walking in the mists when she knew she was the only person on the island. Roberts teased the young woman, frightening her further with a lie that Mr. Lester had committed suicide in her bunkroom. However, this is one of those cases where the truth is more chilling than the fiction, once you consider the words Elizabeth Lester wrote in the conclusion of her book: “[Herbie] created a life and world for himself, and for us on San Miguel. It is all buried, as he is buried, out there, but not alone . . . We are all still there in spirit, for those who seek us—those who have the skill to dream of what it must have been.”

Hikes: Cabrillo Monument / Lester Ranch, Lester Point

Boats bring hikers to Prisoner’s Harbor, Channel Islands.

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Channel Islands National Park

Would Somebody Please Give This Man a Hand? ompared to San Miguel’s windy wildness, Santa Cruz Island has the warm and sunny weather you expect to see on an island in Southern California. Prisoner’s Harbor, a popular Santa Cruz destination, gets its name from the time Mexico dumped 180 convicts onto the uninhabited shore in 1830. Eventually, the prisoners constructed

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makeshift rafts and headed for the mainland over 25 miles away. Some say the rafts sank and that the men were drowned or eaten by sharks. Others say the convicts landed on the beach near Santa Barbara, where they were welcomed into the community. At least as far back as 1930, Channel Islands ranchers and visitors have told a story of the Chinese abalone fisherman who lost his hand at Prisoner’s Harbor. During the 1800s, abalone fishing was a prosperous industry for a colony of Asian fishermen who sold the meat for food as well as the shells, which were used to make jewelry and buttons. As the story goes, one fisherman got his hand caught between an abalone and the rocks. He yelled for help but no one was there to hear his screams. Unable to free his hand, and facing an incoming tide, the fisherman sawed off his own hand with a fishing knife to avoid drowning only to die of blood loss a few minutes later. As was the custom at the time, the man’s body was shipped across the ocean to be buried in his homeland. They say the Chinese fisherman still walks the shores near Prisoner’s Harbor, searching for his lost hand, so that he can bury it with the rest of his remains. Hike: Prisoner’s Harbor

THE HIKES Cabrillo Monument/Lester Ranch MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

2 Moderate San Miguel Island at Cuyler Harbor. Contact Island Packers (Ventura) or Truth Aquatics (Santa Barbara) to arrange for the four-hour boat trip. The remoteness demands that you plan for an overnight stay. The windswept campground offers wind barriers and food storage boxes. From the center of Cuyler Harbor’s Caribbean-like

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HAUNTED HIKES beach, follow a route to the top of the sand dunes to the park service sign. A half-mile of climbing brings you to a short spur trail, where you turn left to get to the Cabrillo Monument. Back on the main trail, you reach the ruins of the Lester Ranch in another 0.1 mile. After touring the ranch site, continue to the ranger station where you can make arrangements to hike to Lester Point.

Lester Point MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

5 Moderate San Miguel Island. Stop at the ranger station first and obtain permission from the ranger to take the selfguided trail. From the ranger station head back down the trail toward the harbor. At the trail junction go left, cross a little wooden bridge, and you are now on the Lester Point Trail. The path follows a ridge with an impressive vista of Cuyler Harbor. At the end of the trail, Lester Point, a windy but wonderful lunch spot, rewards hikers with a stunning view of Simonton Cove and Harris Point. Stay on the trail and be respectful. There are many Chumash Indian burial mounds in this area. To protect fragile vegetation and archeological sites, rangers do not reveal the location of Herbert Lester’s grave.

Prisoner’s Harbor MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

0.5 Easy Kayak Santa Cruz Island. Leaving from Ventura Harbor, Island Packers makes the one-hour trip to Prisoner’s on a daily basis. Go for the day or arrange to camp on


DESCRIPTION:

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the island for several days. There are several kayak rental/tour companies (see NPS website) in the area that cater to Channel Islands visitors. Or you can transport your own kayak to the island for an additional fee. After the bumpy boat ride, go beachcombing along the rocky harbor and look for the fisherman’s hand. Then have lunch on the picnic tables under the eucalyptus. On calm days, the clear water, the starfish-studded tide pools, and the sea caves make kayaking along the western side of the harbor a superb experience.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Winter is the best for whale and seal watching. Spring brings wildflowers. Summer and fall are ideal for water sports.

Contacts CHANNEL ISLANDS NATIONAL PARK: 805-658-5730; www.nps.gove/chis ISLAND PACKERS, INC: 805-642-1393; www.islandpackers.com TRUTH AQUATICS: 805-963-3564; www.truthaquatics.com

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HAWAII VOLCANOES Be Nice, Be Very Nice to Pele hen hikers Barbie Bigelow and her husband Andy went hiking inside Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, they chose the Kilauea Iki Trail. At the bottom of the crater, the Bigelows stopped for lunch. Barbie had just commented on how nice it was to have the volcanic landscape all to themselves, how it felt like they were alone on the surface of the moon, when a figure suddenly walked out of the woods and started toward them. It was girl. She had long black hair and appeared to be a native Hawaiian. Without speaking a word, the girl held her hand out to the couple. She was bleeding. She’d been cut. Andy asked the girl if she needed help and handed her a paper napkin. The girl put the napkin on her cut, smiled, and headed off down the trail. During the entire encounter, the girl never uttered a single word. The couple turned to each other. Nah, surely that woman wasn’t. . . . “Man,” Andy Bigelow said to his wife, “We just saved Hawaii from another big eruption!” Pele manifests herself in many forms. An older woman in a white muumuu. A beautiful young woman in a red dress. Or she might appear in the form of a black dog. When you see Pele in human form, she will be haughty, uncommunicative, and disheveled. She will appear to be in need of help or assistance. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give it to her. Ranger Neil Akana is a native Hawaiian who has worked as a law enforcement ranger at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park for over a decade. Akana’s favorite Pele story happened in 1974, years before he became a ranger, when he was only 14. It was about 5:30 in the morning. Neil and his father stopped at the store just outside the boundary of the park. They noticed an old Plymouth Valiant with fogged up windows parked across from the store. In the driver’s seat was an elderly Hawaiian man. In the back seat was a black dog. On the passenger side sat an elderly Hawaiian woman

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wearing a white muumuu. It looked as if the old couple had been there all night, as if their car had broken down, stranding them just outside of the park. Neil’s father approached the Valiant to ask the couple if they needed any help. Although Mr. Akana was a native Hawaiian, the couple still wouldn’t respond to any of his questions. They only stared at him with blank expressions. Right about then, “this haole ranger” pulled up in his ranger car. The haole ranger hadn’t had his morning coffee yet. He treated the old couple in a gruff manner, telling them to move on out of there and speaking to the old woman in an impatient and patronizing tone. Neil and his dad, not wanting to get between a testy park ranger and an elderly Hawaiian woman wearing a white muumuu, got in their truck and left. Two days later, Kilauea erupted. Lava flowed and flowed, eventually running over the Crater Rim Road. A park ranger patrolling this road came to a point where a hot river of lava had flowed across the pavement. The ranger turned around and headed in the opposite direction. But to his horror, another finger of lava had already crossed the road behind him. Who was this ranger in this dire predicament, trapped on a road between two blistering lava flows? It was the haole ranger who had acted so impatiently with the old Hawaiian woman two days earlier. He had to be rescued by a helicopter. A law enforcement ranger being the victim of Pele’s scorn makes this story a favorite among locals on the Big Island, and ranger Neil Akana says, “It really happened.” Pele not only lives in the volcano, she is the volcano. Pele’s hair is lava spun into long strands of volcanic glass that may be only a half millimeter in diameter and up to two meters long. Pele’s tears are small drops of cooled lava. You might be tempted to break off a few of these geologic wonders and take them home as souvenirs. Don’t do it! Removing plants, animals, or minerals in a national park is a federal crime. And perhaps more importantly, it’s some serious bad juju. Just ask Timothy Murray, who scooped up some black sand into a bottle, took it back to Florida, and watched his life take a nosedive. His pet died, his girlfriend dumped him, and the F.B.I. arrested him in a computer copyright infringement case. “Even the F.B.I. agents said they never arrest people for what I did,” Murray said to the Los Angeles Times in 2001. “They told me, ’You must have really pissed someone off.’” After some

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research, Murray figured out who he had upset. Then he packed the volcanic sand in a box and mailed it back to Hawaii. Murray is one of the thousands of hexed tourists who have mailed boxes of volcanic rocks, along with letters telling of their misfortunes, to the National Park Service. Broken arms, ruined marriages, tragic accidents. For believers, the Pele curse is not benign. Officially, rangers say the curse of Pele is a hoax. Unofficially, they say it’s a royal pain in the ass. Former Hawaii Volcanoes ranger Mary Hinson says, “Every week or so I’d have to haul a heavy box of rocks out of the ranger station and dump it into the volcano.” Hikes: Kilauea Iki Loop, Crater Rim Road and Trail

THE HIKES Kilauea Iki Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

5 Moderate Begins and ends at the parking lot for Thurston Lava Tube on the Crater Rim Drive. After a steep 400-foot descent you will leave the lushness of the ferns for the stark lava field, a relatively thin crust that has formed over a cooling lava pond. Inside the caldera occasional wisps of steam rise from the Mars-like landscape. The lonely desolation of the place has given many that raise-the-hair-off-the-backof-your-neck feeling that Hawaiians call “chicken skin.” Kilauea Iki Crater, one of Pele’s homes, experienced a massive eruption in 1959 and may again in the future. To do the loop return to the parking lot via the Crater Rim Trail.


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Crater Rim Road and Trail MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

Kilauea Iki Loop

11.6 Easy to Moderate Bicycles, Vehicles Start anywhere along the rim where the trail meets the road, including park headquarters. There are many sights to see along the Crater Rim Road (12 miles) and the Crater Rim Trail (11.6 miles). Both routes circle the rim of the Kilauea Caldera. Near the Keanakakoi crater is where the haole ranger became trapped by two fingers of lava in 1974.

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HALEAKALA The Volcano Sleeps Tonight efore the volcano goddess skipped town in order to stir up trouble on the Big Island, she lived on Maui, inside the crater Puu o Pele on Maui’s Haleakala, the world’s largest extinct volcano. Haleakala means “house of the sun,” and the remains of temples, platforms, and burial sites found inside the crater and along the outer slopes are evidence that early Hawaiians viewed the area as sacred. Lacking the fiery temper of her sister volcano, Kilauea, Maui’s dormant volcano encourages a new age sentiment about the park. Hosmer’s Grove is said to be an environment filled with “life giving energy,” and park ranger Sharon Ringsven calls Haleakala a “benign place.” At Leleiwi Overlook, if conditions are just right, the late afternoon sun will project your shadow onto low-lying fog clouds and a rainbow will frame this heavenly but rarely seen phenomenon. Yet the locals also speak of darker things. Ancient burial grounds that will curse or haunt anyone who visits them. “Pokani Nights” when red-eyed “night marchers,” the spirits of native warriors, patrol their ancient battlegrounds searching for long dead enemies. They say that anyone encountering the night marchers must drop to the ground and play dead or they will be killed. Hikes: Sliding Sands / Halemau’u Trail, Leleiwi Overlook

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THE HIKES Sliding Sands Trail/Halemau’u Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

1 to 12 Strenuous Sliding Sands Trail starts from the parking lot just below Haleakala’s summit (10,023 feet). The trailhead for Halemau’u is on the main park road miles past the visitor center. This trek is best designed as a two- or three-day backpack. Descending the steep “sliding sands” of the

Haleakala Sliding Sands Trail, Leleiwi Overlook

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HAUNTED HIKES crater—the volcanic cinders slip under the weight of your feet—may seem easy, but the climbing back to the top of Haleakala will be arduous. Near the floor of the crater you will pass by Pu’u o Pele, a good destination if you are doing a day hike. After seeing Pu’u o Pele (at the first trail junction), well-conditioned day hikers or those with overnight permits can turn left onto a trail leading to Halemau’u Trail and the Bottomless Pit. According to an old Hawaiian custom, if you throw your child’s umbilical cord into this 65foot-deep hole, he will never become a thief. Turn around at the pit and go back the way you came or, if you arranged for a shuttle, take the Halemau’u Trail to the road for a strenuous 12-mile day hike.

Leleiwi Overlook MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.25 Easy Handicapped From the park entrance station drive seven miles to the Leleiwi Overlook. Across from the overlook parking lot, a path leads to the edge of the Leleiwi Pali or “bone altar cliffs.” There are nice views of the colorful cinder cones in the wilderness below but the Leleiwi Overlook is most famous for a rarely seen effect called “The Specter of the Brocken.”

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year.

Contact HALEAKALA NATIONAL PARK: 808-572-4400; www.nps.gov/hale

DESERT SOUTHWEST

A California condor greets hikers on this desert trail.

LAKE MEAD CSI : Lake Mead NRA n T.V. land, when a floater pops out of the pea-soup waters of Lake Mead, a couple of expensive haircuts climb out of a tricked-out Hummer, walk up to the park rangers, and say, “Step aside, hayseeds. We’ll take it from here.” Within the hour, trace evidence will be collected, lab results will come back, sexual tensions will have been milked for all they’re worth, and perpetrators will confess within three minutes of entering the interrogation room. That’s the popular show CSI: Las Vegas. In real life, crime scene investigations don’t run so smoothly and plot lines don’t tie together in such neat little bows. On November 30, 2003, when two recreational divers found a human body in the mud at the bottom of the lake, NPS Special Agent Beth Shott got very excited. It was the moment she’d been waiting for. The chance to clean the most perplexing missing persons case off her plate of unsolved crimes. A year earlier, on November 18, a Taiwanese man and woman came to Lake Mead and disappeared off the face of the earth. They were an intellectual power couple. Jau Inn Juang Chu had a Ph.D. in geophysics and had once worked for the Chinese government (something to do with oil extraction). His wife, Yu Hua Chu, was a physicist who wrote complex computer programs for a professor at Columbia. The Chus had recently attended Comdex—the Las Vegas mega-convention for computer industries. While at this convention, Mr. Chu told his brother he had bought “a little raft,” and he and his wife intended to go rafting down the Colorado River in it. Ten days later, Special Agent Shott was searching the couple’s abandoned Boulder Beach campsite for clues. The power couple had apparently vanished, leaving behind their tent, the woman’s wallet, and two life jackets. At Lake Mead, it is rare for two people to drown at the same

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time, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. The winds were squirrelly during the days the couple went missing. Perhaps they had drifted too far from shore while paddling around on their little raft and had drowned in the lake. But still, everything didn’t add up. For one, the couple had recently let their passports expire. Why would they do that when they had a daughter still living in Taiwan? And why had the couple given their daughter access to all their bank accounts and deeded some property over to her in the weeks leading up to their disappearance? Was this just a coincidence? Also, the Chus were two brilliant scientists. What kind of idiot buys a tiny blow-up raft and tries to float the rapids of the Colorado River in it? The case of the missing scientists had become the itch Agent Shott couldn’t scratch. Did the Chus fake their own disappearance? Were they terrorists? Were they in trouble with the Chinese government? Were they dead? If so, then where were the bodies? And where was Mr. Chu’s laptop? Many nights, the conspiracy theories danced around in Agent Shott’s head, keeping her up late into the night. So a year later, on the day the ranger divers dredged up what appeared to be a middle-aged man from the bottom of the lake, Beth was happily typing “case closed” on her mental report even before she arrived at the scene. When Agent Shott shows up on a crime scene people notice. She has Linda Hamilton circa Terminator II biceps, a luscious mane of raven hair, and a bustline most women have to mortgage their houses for. It’s a combination that has suspects watching the Special Agent sashay her Sig-Sauer firearm well out of earshot before they turn to the nearest male ranger and say, “Damn, your partner is pretty hot.” But the man on the beach was too dead to appreciate the cleavage belonging to the lady ranger bending over him. In fact, Agent Shott wasn’t sure if she had ever seen a man more dead than this guy. The cold depths of the lake had conducted bizarre chemistry experiments on his torso; he looked like a giant bar of soap. The specific chemical process that causes this effect is called “adipocere,” which— as Agent Shott will explain to you in more detail than you care to hear— is basically when human tissue turns to wax. It happens when cold water interferes with the normal decay process. Instead of rotting, the body undergoes a process known as “saponification,” transforming human fat into wax or soap. Adipocere tissue does not yield a good DNA

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sample, and in this case, it made it impossible to determine the cause of death. Yet, in other ways the torso of the man was extraordinarily well preserved. So well preserved that the medical examiner couldn’t be absolutely certain how long the man had been at the bottom of the lake. Three weeks? Four months? One year? Ten years? Putting a name to a human bar of soap wasn’t going to be easy. At least not until Beth got her fingers on the wallet found in the pocket of the man’s shorts and pulled out a soggy insurance card with the name Robert Nelson typed on it. This is what they call a clue, a very good clue, but not the slam dunk case solver Agent Shott was hoping to find. Bummer number one: Robert Nelson wasn’t the missing scientist. Bummer number two: there was no record anywhere, not even at the insurance office listed on the card, of any man by the name of Robert Nelson who was missing. Bummer number three: the pathologists were unable to obtain a reliable DNA sample from the adipocere. Bummer number four: another serving of unsolved mystery just plopped onto Agent Shott’s already full plate. Which left Agent Shott wondering why her investigations couldn’t be like the ones you see on the television. The only national park that comes with its very own casino and less than an hour’s drive from Las Vegas, Lake Mead is an easy commute for depressed gamblers with empty wallets, jet skiers high on a mixture of alcohol, stupidity, and testosterone, and any clean-up man looking for a convenient place to lose something forever. In 1982, fiftyfour cadavers were found inside the park. In 1994, Outside Magazine described Lake Mead National Recreational Area as the park “where you are most likely to trip over a corpse.”

Attack of the Brain-Eating Amoebas any park rangers view Lake Mead as a piece of fish tank gravel among the Crown Jewels of the national park system, but the lake and the Mojave Desert that surrounds it are actually quiet lovely. With a canoe or a kayak, you can paddle out to secluded beaches where you can swim during the day and UFO watch at night. From the car, the desert may look boring, but there are several trails, some leading to

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natural hot springs, that are well worth taking a break from the slot machines. Arizona Hot Springs, a naturally heated water spa not far from the Colorado River, is one of the secret jewels of Lake Mead. But you must face several very real horrors on the journey to this soothing soak. The heat. The flash floods. The lightning. The rattlesnakes. The brain-eating amoebas. Park service signs at Arizona Hot Springs warn hikers that swimmers in these waters may be taking a dip with a potentially deadly parasite. According to the Center for Disease Control, Naegleria fowleri is an amoeba living in warm fresh water. Naegleria rarely infect humans—only 24 infections were reported in the United States between the years of 1989 and 2000—but when a few of these amoebas make their way into a human body, things get real ugly, real quick. Naegleria infect a human host when contaminated water is inhaled or splashed into the nose. The parasites travel up the nasal canal and along the olfactory nerve to the brain. Once they enter the brain, Naegleria cause a fatal condition called primary amoebic meningoencephalitis. Symptoms begin with a headache, and within the next 72 hours the patient experiences fever, nausea, vomiting, lethargy, coma, and death. Hike: Arizona Hot Springs

THE HIKE Arizona Hot Springs MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

6 Strenuous From the Arizona side of Hoover Dam, drive east on U.S. 93 until you come to a dirt parking area on the right (4.2 miles south of the dam). From the trailhead, walk down into the dry wash through White Rock Canyon. When you reach the

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Lake Mead

Colorado River, head downstream. A quarter-mile from White Rock Canyon, a side canyon leads up to the hot springs. You must climb a ladder to reach the best pool. You have a better chance of getting in a car crash on the way to the trailhead than catching the Naegleria while swimming in these hot springs—I’ve soaked in these hot pools more times than I can count—but to be on the safe side I suggest you avoid getting any water in your nose.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year, but summers are very hot.

Contact LAKE MEAD NATIONAL RECREATIONAL AREA: 702-293-8907; www.nps.gov/lame

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MESA VERDE A Jaw-Dropping Discovery n 1897, two ranchers, Al and Richard Wetherhill, asked members of the Ute tribe to guide them to the ancient cities of Chapin Mesa, but the Utes refused. A year later, while searching for a cow lost in a snowstorm, the brothers happened upon a gorgeous alcove in the yellow stone. The alcove was as long as a football field and as tall as a stadium. Perched inside it were the ruins of an ancient city. By accident, the Wetherhills had stumbled upon the largest preserved cliff dwelling in the United States, a prehistoric apartment complex that once housed as many as 250 people. Using a makeshift latter constructed out of twigs and twine, the brothers climbed down the cliffs and entered the ruins. Within the stone walls they found arrows, jewelry, woven baskets filled with corn, and clay pottery painted with elaborate patterns. In their book The Wetherhills of Mesa Verde, the ranchers wrote about the first time they entered the homes of an ancient race. “Things were arranged in rooms as if people might just have been out visiting somewhere . . . we could almost see them around us...men coming in from work; women busy at their looms or grinding corn for the midday meal; children playing near[by].” The eerie sensation felt by the Wetherhills is similar to that felt by modern visitors to Mesa Verde National Park. Depending upon which interpretation you prefer, the Navajo word Anasazi means either “ancient ones” or “enemy ancestors.” Many people, especially the Native American descendants of the pueblo cultures, believe the “ancient ones” have never abandoned the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde because their spirits still live there. You’ll be hard-pressed to find a park ranger who will blow these beliefs off as mere superstition. They, too, have felt as if they were being watched or sensed that they were an “uninvited presence” while exploring certain ruins. In July 2000, wildfires consumed over 23,000 acres near the park and came within a mile of Mesa Verde’s ruins. While battling the

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Some say spirits of the Anasazi still inhabit the Spruce Tree House.

blazes, one Sioux firefighter from South Dakota saw a spirit shimmering in the heat and writhing in the column of smoke. “I didn’t want to look at it, but I can feel the spirits here,” Dewey Neck, the firefighter, told a reporter for the Knoxville New Sentinel. Hikes: Cliff Palace Tour, Spruce Tree House, Sun Temple

A Stomach-Churning Discovery he Anasazi lived under the cliffs of Mesa Verde for more than a century before they mysteriously abandoned their magnificent homes. After a study of tree rings determined the area experienced a 20-year drought around 1300 A.D., most archeologists concluded that the

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peaceful Anasazi left their desert castles for greener pastures elsewhere. This is the most widely accepted theory for the Anasazi’s sudden disappearance, and the one that makes nice copy for the Chamber of Commerce brochures. In 1998, twelve miles west of the park, a group of archeologists unearthed something that rocked the world of archaeology with controversy. In Cowboy Wash, at the bottom of two pits, scientists found a heap of human bones. It was immediately apparent that the people that the bones belonged to, four adults and three children (the youngest being seven), did not die a natural death. The bones had been picked clean of flesh and were scraped with marks like those left on the bones of game animals after butchering. Some of the bones were broken as though they were opened for the nutritious marrow. There were also signs of “pot polish,” bones rounded smooth by rattling around in a cauldron of boiling water. And worst of all, the skulls of two of the children appeared to have been placed in an open fire to cook the brains inside. Before the discovery at Cowboy Wash, one archeologist had been the subject of ridicule by his colleagues after he claimed to have found over 30 Anasazi sites containing evidence of cannibalism. The other archeologists scoffed at this man’s suggestion that a group of “prehistoric terrorists” once roamed the Four Corners area chowing down on “Man Corn.” That is until a pile of “coprolite” vindicated him. Coprolite is prehistoric human poop and a big pile of it was found deposited on top of the bones in Cowboy Wash. The ancient human feces tested positive for the presence of human protein. Now the evidence was irrefutable. Sometime around 1150 A.D. ,at least one person enjoyed a meal of human flesh. Who murdered and ate these people and why are questions still open to speculation in what amounts to an extremely cold case. To be honest, I feel guilty scaring you with tales of poached kid brains and human stew. Many cherish Mesa Verde as a sacred place. Some new agers go so far as to call it a “power spot” where “cosmic energies are finely tuned into a sacred geometric structure.”

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THE HIKES Cliff Palace Tour MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.5 Moderate This dwelling can only be visited by those taking the one-hour ranger guided tour, and you must be able to descend and climb 120 stone steps and five ladders. Tickets for the tour can be purchased at the Far View Visitor Center. Cliff Palace is the largest and the most beautiful ruin in the park. It is also the most crowded. Cliff Palace contains 217 rooms and 23 kivas. Some of its towers are four stories high. Watch your head while entering the rooms. The average Anasazi was 5′ 3″ tall.

Spruce Tree House MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.5 to 2.8 Moderate Mesa Verde Museum. One of the easier ruins to reach, this self-guided trail may be open during the winter when other trails are closed. One of the eight kivas has been reconstructed so that you can climb down a ladder and view the interior. The green pines, or piñons, covering the mesa are how Mesa Verde or “green table mountain” got its name. From the Spruce Tree House, go back the way you came (0.5 mile) or ditch the crowds by taking the Spruce Canyon Loop (2.8 miles) back to the picnic area.

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Mesa Verde Cliff Palace, Spruce Canyon, Sun Temple

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Sun Temple MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.2 Easy On Ruins Road, south of the museum, at the stop marked Sun Temple. This ground dwelling is shaped in the form of a giant D and may have served as a site for religious rites or rituals. Part of the temple features a sunflower-shaped symbol that geologists say is a product of natural erosion. It appears the Anasazi cut this symbol out of the ground and installed the natural work of art inside their temple, possibly to use as an altar.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Spring, summer, and fall. The park is open in the winter, but trails to the dwellings may be closed due to snowfall.

Contact MESA VERDE:

970-529-4465; www.nps.gov/meve

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CANYONLANDS Dead Horse Point n the long drive out to the park’s Grand View Overlook, just north of the park boundary, a spur road takes you to the end of a mesa. Surrounded by 2,000-foot cliffs, the neck of this mesa is no more than 30 yards wide in spots. By building a fence of brush, a rancher could easily corral his animals on this “island in the sky.” During the late 1800s, cattle rustlers and horse thieves took advantage of secluded mesas like this one to graze their ill-gotten animals. We don’t know who named this mesa “Dead Horse Point,” but the legend of the mustangs who died here has survived several generations. The story goes that a group of horse thieves corralled their stolen horses at the end of the mesa, but when they returned for the horses many days later, the animals had died of thirst. Some of the dehydrated mustangs jumped off the cliffs in desperate attempts to reach the Colorado River, 2,000 feet below. They say these long dead horses still roam this mesa, and rangers at the state park will tell you there is indeed a “spirit” at Dead Horse Point. You can see it from the overlook. On the cliffs south of the point, there is patch of white sandstone. The rock has eroded away in spots, leaving behind an image of a dead white horse.

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Great Gallery of Ghosts he Barrier Canyon people lived in the Four Corners region long before the more famous Anasazi came to town. We know little about these enigmatic Barrier Canyon people except that their artistic tastes were a little dark. Several panels of colorful rock art adorn the sandstone walls in Horseshoe Canyon. The scariest is 200 feet long and 15 feet high and displays a seven-foot phantom surrounded by seven giant, armless, hollow-eyed figures. We call this panel “The Holy Ghost and His Attendants.”

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Canyonlands’ Great Gallery of Ghosts.

Clay figurines found in this isolated pocket of Canyonlands National Park suggest that the rock art in Horseshoe Canyon may be anywhere between 2,000 and 8,000 years old. The quality of the work is extraordinary. If you visit this precious site, please act accordingly. Whatever deities inspired these paintings, they seem like the type who hold grudges. Hike: Horseshoe Canyon

THE HIKE Horseshoe Canyon MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

3.5 Moderate To see the “Holy Ghost and His Attendants,” you must travel to the Horseshoe Canyon Unit, a satellite area of the park. The hiking is relatively easy, but you must travel 30 miles of dirt roads to reach the trailhead.

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Canyonlands

DESCRIPTION:

From State Route 24 at mile marker 136.4 (a half-mile south of Goblin Valley State Park), head east onto the signed dirt road to the Hans Flat Ranger Station. Stay on this well maintained road for 24.3 miles. At the informational kiosk, take the right path in the forked road heading southeast. Then take the left fork heading north to Horseshoe Canyon. In 5.1 miles, a small road going left (east) brings you to the parking area. Other than a pit toilet and a primitive campsite, there are no amenities here. Be prepared and self-reliant, bring lots of water and emergency supplies, and have a member in your group who is experienced with desert treks. From the trailhead, take the path leading down into the canyon. Near the 0.5 mile point, look for three-toed dinosaur tracks just off the trail on a layer of gray shale. In 1.3 miles, the trail reaches the canyon bottom. Head south on or up the canyon and you will begin to see pictograph panels on both sides of the sandstone walls above you. The “Great Gallery” and the “Holy Ghost” are about 2 miles upstream from where you first entered the canyon.

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Canyonlands Horseshoe Canyon Unit

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Spring, fall, and winter are best for hiking. Do your homework; the fall monsoon season makes the canyon subject to flash floods and summers are deadly hot.

Contacts CANYONLANDS NATIONAL PARK: 435-259-2653; www.nps.gov/cala DEAD HORSE POINT STATE PARK: 435-259-2614; www.stateparks.utah.gov

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GLEN CANYON Death, the Old Clown, Takes the Bait fter three years of traveling through the Southwest, Everett Ruess became smitten by the singular charms of the Colorado Plateau. In letters to family members, the young poet-artist declared the scenery of southern Utah to be so overpowering to the human eye that it “nearly kills a sensitive person by its piercing glory.” By the age of 20, Everett’s budding talent as a block print artist had already earned him introductions to the likes of Ansel Adams, Maynard Dixon, and Dorothea Lange. But this young man preferred the company of wilderness over people, and, although a girl or two had caught his eye, Everett’s restless spirit continued to “flirt pretty heavily with Death, the old clown.” The last men to see the poetic nature lover from Los Angeles were two sheep herders who shared their dinner of mutton with the young traveler on November 19, 1934. Everett left their camp that night. He was last seen prodding his two burros toward Hole-in-theRock, a notch in the sandstone where a group of Mormons performed a near miracle by driving 83 wagons down through the cliffs on their way to Bluff, Utah in 1880. After several months passed by without any word from their son, Everett’s parents wrote their concerns to the town commissioner in Escalante, Utah. In March 1935, a search party found Everett’s burros getting fat on the grass in a brush corral on the plateau above Davis Gulch. Inside the gulch, searchers found Everett’s boot prints leading to and from several Anasazi ruins and a cryptic message “NEMO 1934” carved into the rock. Evidence of Everett’s camp was found nearby, but his camp outfit, his bedroll, cooking equipment, paintings, and journal were never found. Everett’s camps and one of his “Nemo” inscriptions are now covered by the waters of Lake Powell. Over the years, the curious have entertained many Everett Ruess disappearance theories. Most believe the risk-taking adventurer fell to his death while exploring the treacherous cliffs—his footprints

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were found near the rim at Hole-in-Rock. Everett’s parents decided their trusting son must have been killed by cattle rustlers or angry Navajos. (Violent cattle thieves often frequented the area and a Navajo incarcerated for another murder bragged that he had killed Everett, buried him in the sand, and absconded with the missing camp outfit.) A few clung to glamorous ideas that Everett may have orchestrated his own disappearance. Everett Ruess detested civilization. One of his favorite books was Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea in which Captain Nemo (Nemo is Latin for “no one”) drives a submarine into the depths of the ocean in order to escape all his disappointments and frustrations with the civilized world. The young writer did predict his fate. In May 1931, when he was only 17, Everett wrote, “I shall go on some last wilderness trip, to a place I have known and loved. I shall not return.” Hike: Davis Gulch

THE HIKE Davis Gulch MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

14 Strenuous to Extreme Hole-in-the-Rock Road leaves Utah Highway 12 just 4.5 miles southeast of Escalante. Passenger cars can handle most of the route, but you will need a high clearance, four-wheel-drive and the skills to maneuver it to make it all the way to Hole-in-the-Rock. Just driving the 50.5 miles of dirt road to reach the trailhead will be exciting enough for most people. The scenery here will show you why Everett Ruess waxed so passionately about this area in his letters home. Amazing geologic formations and a few easier hikes are found along the way to the end of the road at Hole-in-the-Rock. Canyoneers describe the trek into

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Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Winter, spring, and fall. Summers are deadly hot. Flash floods are a big concern while hiking slot canyons during monsoon season.

Contacts GLEN CANYON NATIONAL RECREATION AREA: 435-826-4315; www.nps.gov/glca To learn more about the sport of canyoneering visit www.canyoneeringusa.com

Glen Canyon

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GRAND CANYON She Slept in Her Underwear n the third night of her patrol down the Colorado River, the ranger rowed her boat over to a patch of pinkish sand at the mouth of a little side canyon between Temple and Chuar Buttes. After dinner, she hauled her tent up above the beach in order to set it up on the firmer soil at the base of the sandstone, near the path leading to the wreckage. It was the middle of summer. The desert night was hot, so the ranger slept in her underwear. The voices woke her up. Through the mesh of her tent, she saw 12 to 15 men and women walking up the trail toward her. Feeling vulnerable, the ranger put one hand on her fleece jacket and the other on her pistol. The men and women walking past her tent wore city clothes: The men in button-up shirts; the women in skirts down to the knee. These people in the city clothes were having mundane conversations as they hiked up the path toward the debris. Behind them came another string of people. Five or six Native Americans speaking a strange language the ranger did not recognize. “I’m half nude,” the ranger thought. “If people keep coming, I’m going to have to put on some clothes.” Of course, she must have been dreaming. But ranger K.J. Glover says, “I really thought I was awake.” The story involving the little side canyon Glover camped in has been an arrow in the camp lore quill of Colorado River guides for nearly fifty years. In 1956, two commercial jets collided above this wild and remote section of the Colorado River, killing 126 people. At the time, it was the worst commercial civilian airline disaster in history. Just before the collision, both pilots had flown off course, probably to give their passengers a better look at the Grand Canyon. The United DC-7 smashed into the side of the Chuar Butte. The T.W.A. Super Constellation landed upside down onto Temple Butte. The remote location and the vertical cliff face made recovering the remains of the victims extremely difficult, and in some cases, impossible. Rangers and river guides call the drainage between these two

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mesas Crash Canyon. Ranger Glover is not the only one to experience eerie visions while camping under the shadows of Temple and Chuar Buttes. Another ranger was camping on a beach across the river from Crash Canyon when he was awakened by the sounds of what he thought were voices crying for help. The ranger got out of his tent. Across the water from where he was camped, he saw several moving lights, as if a large group of hikers with flashlights was walking along the edge of the river. The ranger found this odd, since he knew there were no trails across the river from him, and the only way to reach that area was by boat. He yelled across the cold water, but got no response from the people with the lights. The lights moved upstream and disappeared around the bend, so the ranger, assuming the group was part of a river trip making their way back to camp, crawled into his tent and went to sleep. The next morning, the ranger asked all the river rafters boating by him if any of them had been hiking their clients across the river the night before. None of them had. Hike: Crash Canyon

Welcome to the Big Ditch pproaching from the south on Highway 64, your first view of the Grand Canyon is just before you enter the park boundary. Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it. Look for it as you crest the small hill south of the Grand Canyon Airport. From here, the seventh natural wonder of the world appears as a ragged gash in the forest, a mere flesh wound in the earth, as if Paul Bunyan had dragged the sharp blade of his ax across the armored back of a sleeping reptile, exposing the tender pink flesh under its hide. Once you are over the hill, this peek-a-boo view of the canyon disappears. This is why the first white explorers to this area were so startled by the Grand Canyon. A mountain could be seen for miles. The canyon crept up on you, remaining hidden and coy until the very moment you stepped to the edge and the world dropped away into a hole three hundred miles long, one mile deep, and ten miles wide. In 1857, the U.S. Army sent Lieutenant Joseph Ives and his

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men to explore the area. When Ives returned two years later, he submitted a report to congress. In this report, Ives compared his descent into the Grand Canyon to entering the gates of hell. “. . . the corresponding depth and gloom of the gaping chasms into which we were plunging, imparted an unearthly character . . . Harsh screams issuing from aerial recesses in the canyon sides, and apparitions of goblin-like figures perched in the rifts and hollows of the impending cliffs, gave an odd reality to this impression.” Even men of God have been shaken by the sight. After his visit in 1900, Reverend C.B. Spencer wrote “Horror! Tragedy! Silence! Death! Chaos! There is the awful canyon in five words.” I can appreciate the reverend’s hyperbole. I worked as a search-and-rescue ranger at the Grand Canyon. I love it. It’s my favorite park. And it scares the holy crap out of me.

The Gateway to the Underworld opi mythology tells the story of a god who appears, on his good days, as a handsome youth with long cascading hair and wearing an indigo-hued breech cloth. On his bad days, though, this god appears as a monstrous corpse—burnt, caked with blood, and exuding a ghastly stench—with an enormous head and a round mouth filled with jagged rotten teeth. His name is Maasaw (mah-saw) and his hollow eyes burn with a coal fire. If you see a light moving through the darkness it may be Maasaw coming for you. Or you may hear him first, a click-click-clicking sound, like that made by someone tapping two stones together. Maasaw is a complex god, both feared and loved, and though he declares, “I’m no evil being. I’m simply the keeper of death,” the sight of him will petrify you with fright and his breath will drain you of your energy. Maasaw is so feared by the Hopi that some of them develop phobias of the dark, and many will not even speak his name. When I questioned a Hopi woman regarding her beliefs about Maasaw, she whispered, “I don’t want to talk about him.” So, without her help, I can only relay to you how anthropologists and park rangers understand the Hopi perspective on the Grand Canyon. Which is this: before you

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descend into the canyon, you must spiritually prepare yourself for the journey. Otherwise, you run the risk of running into the likes of Maasaw. Maasaw’s lair is a cave deep within the bowels of the canyon. Not too far from this cave is a mound in the earth, a muddy, cervix-like opening from which the Hopi say their ancestors entered this world and through which the dead will return. It is called Sipapu. It is both the Place of Emergence and the Gateway to the Underworld, and it makes even the most skeptical Grand Canyon ranger superstitious. Whites, including some of my respected friends, who have ventured too close to this site have experienced lightning strikes, anxiety attacks, episodes of violent vomiting, bone-breaking falls, and death. Don’t even think about going there.

Where’s the Phantom? eople are always asking ranger Pam Cox, “Where’s the phantom of Phantom Ranch?” She hates to disappoint them, but there is no phantom at Phantom Ranch. The place borrows its name from nearby Phantom Canyon, which earned its name by hiding from the government cartographers who missed it the first time they mapped the Grand Canyon. Venture a mile or two down the Bright Angel Trail and you will become painfully aware of how hard the Grand Canyon trails are to hike. So try to imagine how hard they were to build. The park service trail crews are among Grand Canyon’s many unsung heroes. Several have died for the sake of our outdoor recreational opportunities. Trail foreman Rees Griffiths is one of these heroes. On February 6, 1922, Griffiths and his crew set off a dynamite charge to cut a route for the North Kaibab Trail near Phantom Ranch. The blast loosened a huge boulder. The boulder fell on Griffiths and crushed him. A nurse and the chief ranger hiked down in the moonlight to care for the foreman, but Griffiths was dead by the time they arrived. Before he passed, the trail foreman asked his crew to bury him in the “canyon he loved so well.” The National Park Service honored Griffiths’s request. Today the trail foreman lies under a pile of reddish-black rocks

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Strange lights have been seen at the grave of Grand Canyon trail foreman Rees Griffiths.

at the base of the granite cliffs, not far from where he was killed. One day Phantom Ranch ranger Pam Cox visited the park museum collection to do some research. While she was there, an employee entering data into a computer asked her, “Have you seen the ghost of Rees Griffths?” Pam said, no, she couldn’t say that she had. The employee said, “Well, the trail crew have been seeing him for years. He appears as a light hanging around his grave.”

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The hair rose on the back of Pam’s neck and a shiver ran down her spine, because, a month earlier, on a moonless night, she had seen a strange light on the trail near Griffiths’s grave. Flashlights moving down the trail are common sights in the Inner Canyon, especially during the summer when the cool nights can be the best time to hike. So Pam thought nothing of the light at first. But this glowing orb had moved down the trail, hovered over Griffiths’s grave for a few minutes, and had then disappeared. Pam waited and waited, but the light never came back on, and no hikers came down the trail. Hike: Bright Angel/North Kaibab Trail

The Wailing Woman a Llorona, the weeping woman, is a classic ghost of the Southwest. Like most La Lloronas, the Grand Canyon version reportedly committed suicide after losing her husband and child to a drowning or some other unfortunate accident. Grand Canyon locals call her the wailing or wandering woman. No documented event or person has been linked to the North Rim’s female ghost. However, Grand Canyon ranger Stu Fritts says her story is still compelling because there is no shortage of

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La Llorona has been seen near the Grand Canyon Lodge.

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canyon tragedies that have made wives and mothers sick with grief, and many credible witnesses have seen or heard the wailing woman, including many park rangers. On September 1, 1932, an early morning fire destroyed the interior of the Grand Canyon Lodge. According to legend, witnesses saw the wailing woman’s screaming face in the flames. Wearing a white dress printed with blue flowers, she roams the North Rim near the Grand Canyon Lodge, which was built on the same site as the old one. Employees claim La Llorona won’t allow a particular door in one of the hotel’s corridors to remain open. Whenever the caretaker opens that door, the wandering woman slams it shut. Numerous visitors and employees say they have heard mournful wails in the winds outside their cabins at night, and three park rangers saw her during an evening hike along the Transept Trail. Hike: The Transept

A Smorgasbord of Spooky he trail skirting the canyon’s South Rim is one of the best in the park. From Yavapai Overlook you head west along a paved path that takes you to many points where you can peer into the dizzying depths of the abyss. A short side trail will take you to the park graveyard where the remains of 58 passengers killed in the 1956 mid-air collision are buried in a mass grave. You will pass by the Hopi House, an adobe gift shop haunted by two poltergeists who seem to be Native American spirits. Employees call them “the Brown Boys,” and they complain that if you stay late in the evenings you might hear them running around upstairs. The Brown Boys can be irritating little brats. They knock over the merchandise, turn off computers, and throw rugs on the floor. An employee came to work one day to discover that the boys had lined up several dolls all in a row. She says, “If you arrange merchandise in a way that they don’t like, it will be on the floor the next morning.” Adjacent to the Hopi House is the Grand Canyon’s fanciest hotel, the El Tovar. Metal rods adorn many of the club-shaped posts along the upper balconies. Perched high on the edge of the canyon like

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an imposing Rhine castle, the El Tovar is a magnet for much more than lightning. There have been two murders here. A sheriff’s deputy shot an armed robbery suspect outside of the hotel in 1951, and in 1984, an abusive wrangler put a bullet in the head of a well-intentioned bystander who tried to break up an argument between the wrangler and his girlfriend. Grand Canyon employees have a numerous and eclectic collection of stories of the eerie and unexplained that have occurred inside the El Tovar. Several tourists have hurriedly checked out of a certain room after seeing “death head” faces looking back at them in the mirror. Two employees vacuuming the dining room watched a giant ball of light push open the kitchen doors, float across the room, and then out of the window toward the canyon. An apparition of an old man resem-

Grand Canyon’s mysterious skeleton has never been identified.

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bling the long dead Fred Harvey roams the halls in his black hat and long coat. A silent woman wearing a 1930s dress once startled a night watchman so badly he ran home to his wife. Oh, and there’s a service elevator that smells of blood. As you continue to follow the Rim Trail behind the park lodges, be sure to check out Kolb Studio, a bookstore and gallery that clings to the rim. Ellsworth and Emery Kolb, two famous Grand Canyon photographers, built the studio in 1904. Emery Kolb lived here until he died at the age of 95 on December 11, 1976. Two months after Emery Kolb died, Kolb’s grandson, Emery Lehnert, walked into the ranger station with a bag of bones. He told rangers he had found them in his grandfather’s garage. When anthropologists determined the bones to be that of a white male with a gunshot wound to the temple, suspicion was cast on Emery Kolb. Some believed the skeleton belonged to a missing river rafter, Glen Hyde, who Kolb must have murdered to rescue Hyde’s wife, Bessie, from their ill-fated trip down the Colorado River. (Bessie and Glen Hyde disappeared while on a river trip down the Colorado in 1928, which matched the time of death forensic experts estimated for the remains.) But the Hyde theory was proven impossible by experts who examined the skeleton for the Coconino County Sheriff in 1980. Six different restorers made six different clay reconstructions of the skull and none of the facial reconstructions resembled the face of Glen Hyde. Forensic Anthropologist Walter Birkby concluded that the skeleton found in Kolb’s garage was that of a blond male 18 to 22 years of age. Glen Hyde was 28 when he disappeared. Kolb’s daughter, Edith Lehnert, told rangers she believed the skeleton belonged to a miner whose remains her father had discovered while exploring below the rim near Yavapai Point around 1931. Kolb stored the miner’s bones in his garage, and from time to time, the photographer would entertain guests by assembling the bones on the dining room table. As weird as this seems, it makes sense. By many accounts, Emery Kolb was a cantankerous old man who enjoyed rubbing up against the authority of the National Park Service. He reportedly joked to a friend, “when I die and somebody finds that skeleton, it’s going to cause a lot of commotion...” The identity of the Kolb skeleton is still a mystery. Hike: Rim Trail

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THE HIKES Crash Canyon MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

N/A N/A Water Route In order to reach the short path that climbs to the wreckage of one of the planes, you must be on a river trip. Commercially guided trips are the best option for most people (see below). Ask your guides to point out Crash Canyon to you. Most of the debris was removed in the 1970s; however, as late as 1998 a hiker found pieces of glass, some aluminum, and a shoe. (Any artifacts you find in a national park belong to the U.S. Government and are protected by federal law.)

Bright Angel Trail/North Kaibab Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

20, 24, or 28 Extreme The Bright Angel Trail starts from the South Rim near the Bright Angel Lodge. It is 10 miles to Phantom Ranch. The North Kaibab Trail starts from the North Rim. It is 14 miles to Phantom Ranch. I rate these trails as Extreme only because I’ve seen too many people die while trying to hike them. The NPS Wilderness Office will send you a Backcountry Trip Planner, which offers excellent advice on how to safely hike the canyon. A fit, wise, well-prepared hiker can hike to Phantom Ranch and back in a day, but why torture yourself. Buy a backcountry permit and make it a three-day trip. Make reservations to camp at Indian Garden (BA) or Cottonwood campground (NK) to split your climb out

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into two days. At Phantom Ranch there is a campground, rustic accommodations, a ranger station, and a cantina. Griffths’s gravesite is on the north side of the Colorado River, near the confluence of Bright Angel Creek on the trail between Phantom Ranch and the Black Bridge, across from the pueblo ruins.

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The Transept MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3 Easy On the North Rim from the Grand Canyon Lodge or the campground. The Wailing Woman’s favorite trail. A well-marked and stunningly scenic 1.5 miles running along the edge of the North Rim.

Grand Canyon: North Rim The Transept

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Rim Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

1 to 10 (one-way) Easy Anywhere along the South Rim between Yavapai Point and Hermit’s Rest. I highly recommend this hike for your first Grand Canyon trek. Expect incomparable views, and you have a good chance of spotting California condors hovering above you. The trail takes you behind a complex of hotels, gift shops, and restaurants, giving you plenty of chances for snack breaks, and the park’s free shuttle system allows you to design a hike that fits your time frame and fitness level. Keep an eye out for where you are going. Unfortunately, many tragic falls have occurred along this very trail. If you start from Yavapai Point, the Rim Trail heads west for nine miles until it reaches the end of the trail at Hermit’s Rest where you can catch a shuttle bus back to the village. Before you get on the bus, check out Hermit’s Rest. If it’s summer, get a lemonade. If it’s winter, treat yourself to a hot chocolate, sit by the cozy stone fireplace, and relax for a bit. As far as I know, Hermit’s Rest is one place in the park that isn’t haunted.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Summers are nice on the rims, but backpacking is safest during the cooler months. The Inner Canyon sees triple digit highs in the summer. Winters are the least crowded, but the first heavy snowfall shuts down the North Rim. Fall and spring are best.

Contacts GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK: 928-628-7888; www.nps.gov/grca BACKCOUNTRY INFORMATION CENTER: 928-638-7875 HOTEL RESERVATIONS: 888-297-2757; www.xanterra.com

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PETRIFIED FOREST The Cigarette-Smoking Woman ometime during the evening of April 9, 1953, the Painted Desert Inn caught on fire. A park ranger broke down the locked door and crawled on his hands and knees into the smoke-filled building. He found Mrs. Marion Mace, the hotel manager, lying unconscious in her bedroom. The ranger carried the woman outside and laid her on the lawn. Then he returned to save the structure. After putting out the flames with a fire extinguisher, he returned to his damsel in distress only to learn that his heroic efforts had been for naught. Mrs. Mace was dead from smoke inhalation. No one knows for sure what caused the fire, but most people assumed the smoldering blaze had been ignited by a cigarette, for the flames had started in the manager’s bedroom, and Mrs. Mace was rarely seen without a death stick between her fingers. The Painted Desert Inn is on the National Register of Historic Landmarks. A distinction Ranger Rita Garcia is proud to point out. “Only 2,500 buildings are on that list,” she says. Rita Garcia has worked as a guide at Petrified Forest for over 11 years. She has grown extremely fond of the old inn. It makes no difference to her that it’s haunted. It’s easy to see why Ranger Garcia loves the building so much. Handcrafted from natural materials, the colorful adobe appears to be as much a part of the Painted Desert as the sweeping views behind it. Since 1924, motorists traveling Historic Route 66 have stopped here for rest and refreshments before taking a gander at a forest of trees turned to stone. The Painted Desert Inn once had a curio shop, a tap room, and a lunch counter. But that was before the National Park Service renovated the building into a museum. Today, tourists come to the inn to learn more about the natural and cultural history of Petrified Forest National Park. “Old buildings talk,” Ranger Garcia says. “They shift. They creak. They moan. You hear things.” Garcia was working on the main

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level one afternoon when she heard someone coming up the stairs from the old tap room below. “It was footsteps on stone,” she says, “but when I looked up to wave at the person coming up the stairs, no one was there.” Other employees report hearing whispered conversations coming from unoccupied rooms, and some have begun to wonder if Mrs. Marion Mace is still lingering around after closing time. After locking up one evening, a park ranger looked back through the windows and saw someone inside the museum walking from one room to another. Slightly irritated at the wayward tourist, the ranger unlocked the door and stepped inside. As soon as she entered the doorway, the ranger detected the unmistakable odor of cigarette smoke. Now the ranger was royally peeved. Not only was this tourist in a closed government building, but the person also had the gall to smoke in a museum! The ranger rushed from room to room in hot pursuit of her cigarette-smoking miscreant, until she realized there was no one in the building but her.

More Questions Than Answers he phantom smoker inside the Painted Desert Inn is not the only unexplained occurrence at Petrified Forest National Park. The Anasazi mysteriously vanished from this area 700 years ago. Archeological evidence indicates they planned to return to their village at Puerco Pueblo, but sometime just before or right after they left, the village burned. Behind the ruins of Puerco Pueblo, etched into a boulder, there is an enigmatic spiral. Every summer solstice, as the sun comes up, a shaft of light moves across the top and down the side of the boulder, and at exactly 9:00 A.M. the beam of light hits the center of the small spiral. The purpose of this ancient solar calendar remains unclear. Ranger Garcia says, “the interesting thing about the Puerco Pueblo is that it has given us more questions than it has answers.” HIKE: Puerco Pueblo

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Giant Bones nside the park visitor center, you’ll find an exhibit displaying a few samples of what the NPS calls “conscience letters.” Since the 1940s, the park service has received up to ten packages of petrified wood per week. Most packages also contain anonymous letters telling of the numerous woes the thief has suffered since he succumbed to the temptation of taking home a few illegal souvenirs. Some letters include detailed maps directing the rangers to the exact place from which the artifacts where stolen. Most rangers believe the curse of the petrified wood is nothing more than self-fulfilling prophecy inspired by guilt. But tourists are not the only ones superstitious about the park’s artifacts. In years past, traditional Navajos would not touch petrified wood because they believed it to be cursed. In Navajo legends, pieces of petrified wood, or yei-bitsin were the bones of the greatest and fiercest of all the alien gods, a strong and mighty giant named Yei tso. Looking at the barren badlands of the park’s Painted Desert, it’s hard to fathom that this area was once covered by a lush forest of coniferous trees. Over 190 million years ago these trees died and a few were buried in sediment before they could decompose. Then volcanic eruptions dumped tons of ash over these sediments. Over time, water seeped down and through the layers, dissolving the silica out of the ash, infusing it into the logs, thereby crystallizing the wood into quartz. Some logs are so well-preserved by this process you can still see tree bark and growth rings. It took Nature 200 million years to make these beautiful tree fossils for us to enjoy. It takes only two seconds to put one in your pocket. Some of you might be thinking the petrified wood curse is a bunch of malarkey. Some of you might be tempted to smuggle a few yei-bitsin out of the park. If so, you had better be a good liar. The rangers at the entrance stations have an uncanny knack for detecting a guilty conscience, and the curse of the petrified wood will begin with a fine that takes a painful bite out of your bank account. Hike: Long Logs/Agate House Loop

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THE HIKES Puerco Pueblo MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.3 Easy From the visitor center near I-40, Puerco Pueblo is on the park’s scenic drive about six miles south of the Painted Desert Inn. A paved path leads up a short knoll to the 800-year-old ruins of Puerco Pueblo. During the ten days before or after the solstice, June 21, rangers will be at Puerco to talk about the subject of Archeo-Astronomy. If you happen to miss this special date, it’s still worth your while to take this short walk to see a 100-room pueblo.

Long Logs/Agate House Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

2.6 Easy At the far southern end of the park, two miles north of Highway 180. On this trail you’ll see one of the largest concentrations of petrified wood in the park, stone logs as long as 100 feet, and the Agate House, a prehistoric dwelling made out of petrified wood.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Anytime.

Contact PETRIFIED FOREST NATIONAL PARK: 928-524-6228; www.nps.gov/pfor

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CARLSBAD CAVERNS From the Bowels of the Earth he sun drops behind the ridge, blanketing the desert with a lavender shadow, and the entire crowd begins to buzz with anticipation. Sitting on benches outside the hungry throat of the cave, the children kick at the seats in front of them. “Sssh,” the park ranger says. “They’re coming.” The spectators quiet down and turn their ears to the cave. Somewhere deep within the blackness, there comes a faint rustling. A living tornado swirls out of the hole and into the sky. The children scream with delight and the adults gasp. It is so sudden. So magnificent. So otherworldly. Bats! Thousands and thousands of bats! A million whispered wing beats pouring from the earth like spirits released from purgatory. And they keep on coming. All 300,000 of them. It takes the breath away. It sends shivers down the spine. It has kids jumping in the aisles. It’s kind of weird and more than a little spooky. But what a rush!

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Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

To see the bat flight at Carlsbad Caverns, you must come between April and October because the Mexican freetail bats spend their winters south of the border. Throughout the summer, park rangers conduct bat programs at the natural entrance of the cave. You can watch the bats leave the cavern at sunset or, if you’re an early riser, you can see them return to their abysmal abode at dawn. Starting times vary throughout the season. Call the park or check at the visitor center for the current schedule.

Contact CARLSBAD CAVERNS NATIONAL PARK: 505-785-3012; www.nps.gov/cave

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BIG BEND Its Saddle Was Covered with Blood he rangers have compiled a list titled “Selected locations associated with violence in the historic Big Bend.” It’s a long and varied list of bloody battles, raids, duels, fist fights, kidnappings, and the 219 homicides that have occurred inside what is now Big Bend National Park, between the years of 1787 and 1920. So when you’re hiking in Big Bend and you come across a place the locals call Dead Man’s Curve, you can darn sure hang your Stetson on the fact they didn’t name it that just because it sounds cool. In 1908, a German immigrant named Max Ernst was walking home along the Old Ore Road when, stopping to open a cattle gate, he was shot in the back by an unknown assailant. In considerable pain, vomiting and using his own hand to keep his intestines from falling out of the exit wound, Ernst survived long enough to be carried home to La Noria, the town he established. Ernst died in the arms of his wife

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This tinja, or waterhole, is named after the murdered Max Ernst.

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Lonely graves in the deserts of Big Bend.

the next day. In her husband’s pocket, Rosa Ernst found an envelope on which Ernst had written “Am shot. I expect by one of Solis at the gate. First shot missed. Two more missed.” The people of La Noria were fond of Max Ernst, an ambitious man who brought prosperity to the region. Ernst’s Big Tinaja Store catered to miners traveling the Old Ore Road, and the fair-haired workaholic also served as the town’s mail carrier, notary public, county commissioner, and Justice of the Peace. During the hours before he was shot, Ernst had visited “Don” Martin Solis, a store owner in Bouqillas Canyon, to investigate a case of mail fraud. At least eight people, including Martin Solis and his sons, were indicted for murdering Big Bend’s “one man Chamber of Commerce.” However, due to a lack of sufficient evidence, no one was ever convicted of the crime. Nearly a century later, park ranger Erik Leonard leads a guided tour to Dead Man’s Curve, the spot where Ernst was shot. Leonard says that “Martin Solis and his sons were never tried by jury, but they were tried by their peers.” It appears the citizens of La Noria made life difficult for the Solis family until the entire clan left the area. Today, little remains of La Noria. But if you nose around long enough, you’ll find a grave hiding in the bushes. Like the Ernst murder, the death of the man buried under this stone cross will never be

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avenged. On July 19, 1932, Juan de Leon, 26, was shot off his mule and left for dead. According to family accounts, Leon’s mule ran back to town without a rider, its saddle covered with blood. Friends discovered Leon dead by the side of Old Ore Road. They buried him right where they found him. Leon was well liked by both Anglos and Mexicans, but at the time, his murder didn’t even make the papers. Some believe that Joe Loftin, a mean and intimidating white man from Mississippi, killed the young Mexican because he was romancing his daughter. But the historical records are vague and contradictory. So we aren’t sure who killed Juan de Leon or why. Hike: Old Ore Road

Ghost Mountains o reach Big Bend National Park, you must drive hundreds of miles of lonely highways across a stark desert haunted by distant lights. The greenish-yellow orbs hovering on the horizon south of Marfa were first seen in 1883 by a cowboy named Robert Ellison. Since then, so many people have come to see the “Marfa Lights,” that the state has constructed an official spook light viewing spot on Highway 90. Explanations given for the phenomenon range from distant headlights, swamp gas, and alien spacecraft, to torches carried by the ghosts of Indians or Spaniards killed in battle. The heart of the park is bisected by the Chisos Mountain Range. Chisos may come from the Castilian word for “clash of arms,” since early visitors to the mountains thought they heard the battle sounds of long dead Spanish soldiers in the nightly winds. Or chisos could be a corruption of the Spanish hechizos, which means “bewitchments.” The most popular story is that chisos means “ghosts.” According to a century-old legend, the Chisos Mountains are haunted by Alsate, an Apache Indian Chief shot by a Mexican firing squad. They say that when Alsate’s body hit the ground, the Chisos Mountains shook, rumbled, and groaned. The park landscape lends some credence to this story. While driving the park road west from Panther Junction to the Chisos Basin

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The profile of Alstate in the Chisos Mountains of Big Bend.

turnoff, look south at the northern flank of the Chisos Mountain Range and you’ll see the image of Alsate, lying on his back with his mouth parted in agony. Those who prefer the bewitchments theory behind the word chisos will appreciate the tale of Bruja Canyon. Bruja is Spanish for “witch,” and people claim photographs of this remote canyon cannot be developed. In 1978, according to Dennis Hauk’s National Directory of Haunted Places, two hikers encountered an apparition of a Mexican man wearing a serape and a sombrero while visiting this extremely remote section of the park. Another famous spirit wandering through the consciousness of this corner of the Chihuahuan Desert is the Maverick Murder—a ghost steer with a surly attitude and a scabby brand on its flank. During an 1891 longhorn roundup, one rancher was killed in a fight with another rancher over an unbranded steer. After fleeing the scene, the killer was shot down by Texas Rangers. The wranglers who witnessed the shooting caught the controversial steer and branded it with the word “MURDER.” For many years since, cowboys reported seeing or hearing an illtempered bull roaming the Big Bend, searching for the man who burned that horrid word on its hide. No matter which origin of chisos you like best, they all lead to one thing: the Chisos Mountains play tricks on the minds of those who wander there. Ranger Dave VanInwagen reports that backpackers often hear eerie sounds while camping overnight in the park’s backcountry.

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“It’s the wild burros,” VanInwagen says. “They sound a lot like a woman screaming.” But VanInwagen admits that noises in the night can spook rangers, too. One year, a man died while hiking a park trail. To protect the death scene, a ranger had to spend a night alone in the wilderness with the body. The next morning, the ranger returned from her unpleasant assignment and told VanInwagen that she now understood why the visitors were always hearing things out in the desert. She, too, had heard noises in the wind. The ranger had no idea what was making the noises that night, but she did know one thing. It sure as heck weren’t the burros. Hikes: Old Maverick Road, Terlingua Abajo, and Bruja Canyon

A Lost Mine ust across the border, on the Mexican side of the mighty Rio Grande, lie the crumbling ruins of Presidio San Vicente. The Spanish lived in this remote outpost before the Comanche Indians ran them off sometime in the 1600s. This much, we know is true.

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Ancient ruins at Terlingua Abajo.

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According to legend, the Spaniards blindfolded Indian workers and marched them from San Vicente to a rich ore of silver in the Chisos Mountains. Forced to work the mine like slaves, the Indians eventually turned on the Spaniards, killing them to the last man. The Indians then concealed the entrance to the mine with a large rock so that it would never be found. Folks used to say that if you stood in the doorway of the San Vicente Chapel on Easter morning, a beam of light would strike Lost Mine Peak at the exact location of the mine. Before you get any bright ideas, though, you should know a few things. The Presidio San Vicente is in ruins, there is no chapel doorway to stand in, and geologists say that the sediments of the Chisos Mountains are not the type that produce silver ore anyway. Fortunately for the nature lover, the trail to Lost Mine Peak offers treasures of another sort. Hike: Lost Mine Trail

THE HIKES Old Ore Road MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

10 to 26 Moderate Bicycles, Vehicles For a mostly downhill ride, start from the Dagger Flat Auto Trail and pedal to Rio Grande Village. For a shorter day trip, park at the southern end and pedal five miles north to La Noria. This road is also open to high clearance vehicles, and there are several primitive campsites along the way. Stop by the visitor center for a free camping permit. The Old Ore Road is an excellent mountain bike ride. Traffic is light, the scenery is stunning, and the ride is fun. This is a good route to try “bike-packing” or backcountry bike touring. Leon’s grave is on the west side

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Old Ore Road

of the road just south of La Noria. To find Dead Man’s Curve, park at the pullout west of the tunnel near Rio Grande Village. There’s no path but you can follow the power line for a short distance to a nice viewpoint. Max Ernst was shot somewhere between the pullout and the viewpoint. Shell casings from a .44 caliber rifle were found on the cliffs above where the tunnel is today.

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Old Maverick Road MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

12 (one-way) Easy Bicycles, Vehicles Maverick Entrance Station to the north and Santa Elena Canyon Overlook at the southern end. This is an improved dirt road open to motor vehicles. You can easily make a day ride out of this, but my recommendation is to get a free camping permit for Terlingua Abajo and plan on staying at least one night. This gives you more time for exploring Terlingua Abajo and Bruja Canyon. From your base camp, mountain

Old Maverick Road Terlingua Abajo and Bruja Canyon

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HAUNTED HIKES bike or drive the Maverick Road at least as far as Luna’s Jakal, a small hut built out of natural materials.

Terlingua Abajo and Bruja Canyon MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

1 to 6 Easy to Strenuous Terlingua Abajo is on the Old Maverick Road, three miles north of the Santa Elena Overlook. Behind the campground, you’ll find a path to the ruins and the beginning of the trek to Bruja Canyon. This trek will make you feel like you just stepped into a Clint Eastwood Western. Take the path from the parking area and cross the creek. Stay downstream, about 100 yards from the gauging station, and head for the southern end of the dark-colored embankment on the opposite side of the creek. Explore from here, heading south,

Big Bend National Park Lost Mine Trail

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and the ruins will be an eerie, yet delightful, surprise. Keep nosing around, heading south and west, until you find the 40 stone-covered graves with wooden crosses. From here, an experienced desert hiker with terrain and map reading skills can trek three miles cross-country to the mouth of Bruja Canyon. Follow the wash upstream (it seems easier if you stay to the right or north side of the wash) toward the obvious slit in the canyon wall. At the mouth of Bruja, you have to scramble up and through the large boulders to explore deeper into the canyon. Experienced canyoneers can climb to the top of the mesa from here, but most hikers should turn around as soon as the going gets beyond their skill level.

Lost Mine Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

4.8 Moderate On the Basin Road just south of Panther Junction. Gaining 1,250 feet of elevation in 2.4 miles, this selfguiding trail provides a fine introduction to the flora and fauna of the High Chisos as well as excellent views.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Spring and fall. Winters are nice but can be chilly. Summers bake.

Contacts BIG BEND NATIONAL PARK: 915-477-2251; www.nps.gov/bibe Desert Sports offers guided mountain bike tours and shuttle services to the areas described: 432-371-2727; www.desertsportstx.com

DEEP SOUTH

Old Trace Trail.

NATCHEZ TRACE So Hard to Die n October 10, 1809, three years after the Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1804–1806, Meriwether Lewis dismounted his horse in front of a rough-hewn log cabin along the Natchez Trace, went inside, and asked for a room. That night, the innkeeper, Mrs. Grinder, served the famous explorer his dinner. Lewis cursed himself in a “violent manner” and ate only a few bites of his meal. Before retiring to his room, Lewis complimented Mrs. Grinder for a pleasant evening and went out to the porch to smoke his pipe, turning his gaze “wistfully towards the west.” Sometime after midnight, the innkeeper heard her only guest pacing his room and talking loudly, “like a lawyer,” to person or persons unknown. Then she heard a shot, a person fall heavily to the floor, and the words “O Lord!” Another shot rang out, and a few minutes later, Meriwether Lewis was scratching at her door. “O madam!” he called out. “Give me some water and heal my wounds.” Terrified for her own life, Mrs. Grinder remained locked in her room. She heard Lewis crawling toward the kitchen and scraping the bottom of a barrel for water. At dawn, Lewis’s servants, who had been sleeping in the barn, found their master lying on the floor in his bedroom with a bullet wound to the chest and a piece of his forehead blown off, exposing his brains. Lewis was mutilating himself with a razor. “I am no coward,” he said, “but I am so strong. So hard to die.” Shortly after sunrise, on October 11, Meriwether Lewis died as a result of his wounds. They buried him in a plot next to the Grinder’s Inn. When a government report listed the cause of death as a suicide, those closest to Lewis were not surprised. Thomas Jefferson knew that Lewis suffered from “black moods,” and when Captain William Clark received the news, he wrote, “O’ I fear the weight of his mind has overcome him.” Still, admirers of Meriwether Lewis found it hard to believe that an accomplished man and national hero would kill himself in such a bizarre manner. Surely, the esteemed Mr. Lewis had

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died at the hands of an assassin and the government was conspiring to cover it up. After that fateful night, an atmosphere of gloom descended upon the Grinder Inn. Some said the place was haunted. That the door of the cabin where Lewis died would open and slam shut unaccountably. That a thirsty man would appear at the well and then suddenly disappear when approached. And today, 200 years after Lewis’s death, they say unexplained lights have been seen in the area and that strange voices have been heard emanating from the ground near Lewis’s grave. In 1920, the National Park Service acquired the land and the Natchez Trace became a scenic parkway. Lewis’s body was exhumed, identified, and reburied under a granite headstone in the shape of a broken rifle barrel. Near the memorial site is a replica of the Grinder Inn. Inside this log cabin is a small museum. Contemporary psychologists and historians see symptoms of manic-depression in the behaviors displayed by Lewis during the days leading up to his death. Yet the strange circumstances surrounding the death of America’s most famous explorer continue to inspire elaborate conspiracy theories. Hikes: Meriwether Lewis Loop, Sunken Trace

Meriwether Lewis Monument.

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Natchez Trace

THE HIKES Meriwether Lewis Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3 Easy Just west of the Trace parkway, in Tennessee, south of Nashville, at MP 385.9. From the stone memorial marking Lewis’s grave, a 3mile loop follows the Old Natchez Trace Trail. Head north for a mile then, just before you reach Little Swan Creek, take the foot trail back to the memorial.

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Meriwether Lewis Loop

Sunken Trace MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.1 Easy On the parkway, south of the Lewis memorial, at MP 391.5. Take an eerie stroll through a dark corridor of claustrophobia-inducing forest. Hundreds of years of use and erosion have caused this section of the trace to appear “sunken.”

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year.

Contact NATCHEZ TRACE NATIONAL PARKWAY: 800-305-7417; www.nps.gov/natr

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JEAN LAFITTE/CHALMETTE Searching for a Heart of Gold n 1808, Jean Lafitte and his brother, Pierre, carved a community out of the bayous of southern Louisiana. They named their town Barataria, after the mythical land sought by Don Quixote, and turned it into a hedonistic haven for smugglers, gangsters, pirates, and prostitutes. But this didn’t stop a desperate Andrew Jackson from enlisting Lafitte and his “pirates” into the army to help defeat the British during the Battle of New Orleans. Despite Lafitte’s reputation as a war hero, the United States Navy assaulted Barataria several years later. Corrupt Navy men killed several of Lafitte’s men and commandeered Lafitte’s property for their own use. Jean Lafitte escaped. Shocked and betrayed by the country he had fought for, the bitter pirate established a new smuggling operation in Galveston Bay, Texas. In 1821, the United States ordered Lafitte to abandon Galveston Island. Lafitte’s response to this ultimatum was to hide all his gold and set fire to his home. By the time the American warship arrived, Lafitte was gone and smoldering ruins were all that was left of his possessions. What happened to Lafitte next is a mystery. Many historians believe he ended up in Charleston, South Carolina. Others suggest he sailed to South America where he fought with Bolivar’s rebels. Another theory is that he died of the plague at age 47 on Isla Mujeres near Cancun, Mexico. Treasure hunters like to believe Lafitte’s gold is still hidden somewhere, perhaps in his beloved Barataria Bayou. Jean Lafitte’s ghost gets around more than a U.P.S. truck. The buccaneer has been seen in the French Quarter, where his spirit strolls the street named after him. His apparition hangs out in the Old Absinthe House where he and Andrew Jackson met before the Battle of New Orleans. He makes occasional visitations at a plantation in the town of Destrehan, Louisiana. One paranormal investigator believes Lafitte’s ghost is in Dickinson Bayou, a cypress swamp near Galveston, Texas. Recently, an Electronic Voice Phenomenon expert named

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Richard Smith visited Dickinson Bayou, where he recorded an E.V.P. of voices calling out the names of Lafitte and his men. (Listen to the recordings on Smith’s website: www.paratexas.com.) These are just a few of many haunts favored by Louisiana’s Gentleman Pirate, who has wandered the earth for the last 200 years searching for something that must be extremely difficult to find-a person who will use his lost treasure for the good of humanity rather than spend it for selfish reasons. Hike: Bayou Barataria

The Bloody British ny excursion to the Barataria National Preserve should include a trip to Chalmette National Battlefield and Cemetery, just west of New Orleans. Rated a “Top 10 Haunted Battlefield” by www.hauntedamericatours.com, Chalmette is where Jean Lafitte and his buccaneers helped Andrew Jackson and his outnumbered army defeat the British during the Battle of New Orleans. Spirit cannon blasts, phantom officers shouting commands to unseen troops, and a British soldier seen wandering among the headstones are among Chalmette’s supernatural occurrences. Perhaps the ghost soldier roaming the battlefield is searching for his digestive system. In those days, preserving the bodies of dead required ingenuity. On the battlefield, slain soldiers were often disemboweled, their insides buried on site, and then the rest of the body was shipped back to native soil. During the Battle of New Orleans, the viscera of the defeated British General and at least two of his officers were buried under a pecan tree (no longer standing) near Vaillere’s Plantation, which served as the British headquarters. From then on, folks said the nuts from that pecan tree were streaked with red. The remainder of General Pakenham’s body was pickled in a barrel of rum and shipped to England. A historical rumor is that a few homebound veterans of the campaign inadvertently drank some of the liquor in which their leader was steeped.

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THE HIKE Bayou Barataria MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

3 to 7 Easy to Moderate Water Route Launch from the park visitor center near Lafitte, Louisiana, south of New Orleans. Note: The description describes things as they existed before the Hurricane Katrina disaster in 2005. Contact the N.P.S. for an update before visiting Jean Lafitte National Historic Park or Chalmette Battlefield. Starting from the launch, paddle north through the shady Bayou des Familles. In 0.75 mile, head left (west) into Bayou Coquille. A mile from your start, Bayou Coquille dumps into the Kenta Canal. Go left (southeast) and watch for the alligators. Just before the canal empties into the Bayou Barataria, you’ll come to a boat launch at the Kenta Bridge. Take your boat out here for a 3-mile paddle or continue on to Bayou Barataria for a longer trip.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Winters will be cooler and less buggy. You have a better chance of spotting alligators March to November.

Contact JEAN LAFITTE NATIONAL HISTORIC PARK; 906-482-0984; www.nps.gov/jela

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BIG THICKET Where Ecology and Ectoplasm Coexist he Bragg Road is more of a tunnel through the forest than it is an actual road. The first whites to settle this soggy armpit of Texas dubbed the place Big Thicket for good reason. The vegetation is oppressive and overwhelming. During the early 1900s, sturdy laborers for the Sante Fe Railroad cut a narrow lane through the dense woods and laid down track. In 1934, after the lumber and the oil ran out, the rails were pulled up and the railroad between Bragg and Saratoga became a ghost road between two ghost towns. Today, “bar ditches”—canals dug by railroad workers to raise ground upon which to lay the tracks—still line both sides of the road, providing a scummy two-lane waterway for the likes of frogs, snakes, and meat-eating bladderworts. If you’re brave enough to drive the Bragg Road at night, be sure to stop and turn off your ignition long enough to listen to the cacophony of frogs and insects. And if you’re patient, if you’re willing to sit there for hours, alone, in the dark, on this godforsaken backwoods stretch of dirt that in Texas passes for a road, then you may, like Howard Perkins in 1966, see a pumpkin-colored light flickering in the distance. A tiny, barely visible, vaporous light that pulses and grows larger as it comes closer and closer. And as the light draws near, if, like Perkins did, you honk your horn in warning, the pulsing orb might rush your car. And just about the time you think the orb is going to swallow your car in light, as Perkins, a self-proclaimed skeptic, described to a reporter for the Beaumont Enterprise, “it’s gone.” Maxine Johnson, the former president of the Big Thicket Association, says Big Thicket is “one of those places where ecology and ectoplasm coexist.” Johnson has lived in the area since 1972, but the only moving lights she has ever seen on the Ghost Road were those made by fireflies. This 76-year-old former librarian prefers facts to tall tales. But she is also one of the people who pushed Hardin County officials to protect an 8-mile stretch of Texas from the logging companies by designating it “Ghost Road Scenic Drive County Park.”

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Imagine that. The trees along the Bragg Road have a ghost to thank for saving them from the chainsaws. Big Thicket has been an apt setting for grisly events—some real, some imagined. The headless brakeman, for example. They say he lost his head in a gruesome rail accident back when the trains were still running. Now he roams the old railway, holding a lantern and searching for his head. It’s a great yarn, and one of the more popular supernatural explanations for the Big Thicket ghost light, but Maxine Johnson says, “I have grave doubts about any real basis to that story.” Another explanation has more historical meat to it. Some say the Big Thicket light is the ghosts of Union sympathizers or Jayhawkers killed by Confederates who burned them out of their hiding places in the canebrakes. This incident, known as the Kaiser Burnout, took place just north of Bragg. The ghost light also has been blamed on Spanish conquistadors looking for lost gold, the spirit of a lost hunter still trying to find his way home, Mexican laborers killed by a construction foreman on payday, and, last but certainly not least, UFOs from outer space. Hundreds of people have seen Big Thicket’s ghost light. Johnson suspects 95% of those people were seeing distant car lights. But what about the other 5%, the sightings Johnson can’t so easily explain away, like the time Howard Perkins, a responsible man Johnson knows and respects, saw a pumpkin-colored light rush his car? When I asked Johnson what she thinks the ghost light is, the former librarian said, “I have no clue at all! Maybe its foxfire?” Foxfire, phosphorescence produced by bioluminescent fungus growing in rotting wood, is the skeptic’s well-worn explanation for all unexplained lights glowing in the woods. Unfortunately, the foxfire theory has a few holes in it. You see, foxfire is a weak pale light. It’s greenish-blue not pumpkin-colored. It doesn’t move, and it doesn’t rush cars. Hike: The Bragg Road

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Deep in the Armpit of Texas f you dream of a hike that sends you deep into the forest primeval, the shadowy, mossy, oozing swamps of your darkest fears, consider spending some time in southeast Texas. Big Thicket’s incredibly diverse ecosystem is an excellent habitat for things that lurk—poisonous snakes, agitated alligators, specter-like panthers, phantom Indians, stinky bigfoots, fanged chupacabras, and what have you. In Big Thicket, even the wildflowers are diabolical. Four out of five species of carnivorous plants found in the United States reside here. Among these predatory plants is the sundew, a dainty little plant with white, violet-like blooms and sticky globules on its leaves that look like luscious dew drops. That is, until an unsuspecting insect lands on them, becomes stuck in the evil goop, and dies a slow, agonizing death by digestion. A few years ago, a Waco news station did a three-part series on a group of camouflage-wearing, tobacco-dipping Texans who scoured the Big Thicket for evidence of unidentified species. These men

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Beautiful Big Thicket.

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Strange beast shot outside Big Thicket.

took their Unidentified Biological Entity (UBE) hunting quite seriously. Equipped with night vision goggles, digital cameras, and “DNA traps,” they waded the swamps in search of evidence. One night, the monster hunters recorded an odd ape-like hooting that they believed was a bigfoot call. But definitive proof of the Texas Bigfoot remained out of their reach. Another UBE bumped the Texas Bigfoot out of the spotlight in October 2004, when a strange animal with long fangs crawled under a woman’s house in Angelina County, an hour’s drive north of the thicket. The animal weighed about 20 pounds. It had blue-gray almost hairless skin, a long rat-like tail, and a serious overbite from which protruded four fangs. The animal was shot. Photographs were taken. Government officials were contacted. When Stacey Womack showed her photographs of the animal to a Texas Parks and Wildlife game warden, he “totally freaked out.” The game warden called a department biologist who took tissue samples back for DNA testing. While everyone waited for the results, mammal experts speculated that the animal was a member of the canine

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family, perhaps a mutated coyote-dog hybrid suffering from an unpleasant skin disease and cursed with congenital deformities. Others believed the beast was proof that the mythical Mexican beast El Chupacabra, “the goat blood sucker,” truly existed and now the wily critters were crossing the border into the United States. Months earlier, a rancher had shot an eerily similar looking creature on his ranch near San Antonio. After the Angelina County animal was killed, the remains of the San Antonio chupacabra were exhumed and tissue samples were sent to the lab for DNA testing. The test concluded the species was canine, possibly a red fox with a severe case of mange. The ranch owner told reporters he wasn’t satisfied with the results. Apparently, these chupacabras/mutated canines are spreading across the state. On August 25, 2005, a farmer in a small town in west Texas shot and killed a hairless animal that looked half-rat, half-kangaroo after it killed 30 of his chickens. The farmer took a photograph of the animal before he threw it in the trash. From the photo, the beast the farmer killed looked exactly like the one shot in Angelina County a year earlier. Newspapers and television stations ran the story. Wildlife experts told reporters that the animal was a coyote with mange. The farmer told reporters he was no expert, but the critter he shot didn’t look like any coyote he had ever seen. Hikes: Sundew Loop, Turkey Creek

THE HIKES Bragg Road MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

8 (one-way) Easy Bicycles, Vehicles Drive north on FM (Farm to Market Road) 787 from Saratoga (on the northeast corner of the Lance Rosier Unit of Big Thicket National Preserve). Just outside of

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Big Thicket Turkey Creek, Bragg Road, Sundew Loop

DESCRIPTION:

Saratoga, 1.7 miles north of the intersection with FM 787 and FM 770, you turn right onto the Bragg Road and follow it for 8 miles to FM 1293. The Bragg Road is a narrow, primitive, one-lane dirt path. Traffic is light enough and the scenery is interesting enough that horseback riders and bicyclists will enjoy it. Hardin County intends to keep the Bragg Road in a primitive state, and Maxine Johnson says the scenic road is special in that it gives elderly and handicapped people a chance to venture deep into the Big Thicket.

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Sundew Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.8 and 1.6 Easy In the Hickory Creek Savannah Unit of the preserve, off Highway 69 north off Kountze. During the wildflower season from late spring through summer, two insectivorous plants, the pitcher plant and the sundew, can be seen while walking this short trail. The inner loop (0.8 mile) is mostly boardwalk.

Turkey Creek MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

15 (one-way) Moderate This trail has four trailheads, but if you can’t do the whole thing, I suggest you start from the preserve information center on FM 423 and head north and include one of the Kirby Nature Trail loops as part of your hike. This trail is one of the longest in the preserve, giving you plenty of time to hunt for chupacabras and bigfoots. For those who prefer ecology to ectoplasm, the Turkey Creek trail travels through a variety of Big Thicket habitats, including sandhill pine uplands, mixed hardwood and pine, floodplains, cypress swamps, and baygall forests.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Summers are best for wildflowers. Winters are a good choice to avoid the heat and humidity.

Contact BIG THICKET NATIONAL PRESERVE: 409-246-2337; www.nps.gov/bith

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EVERGLADES Curse of the Calusa n 1969, a 14-year-old boy searching for Calusa Indian artifacts north of Everglades City found a gold medallion inside a set of human ribs. Etched into the medallion was an unfathomable design—three concentric circles, several rectangles, and two holes which could be eyes or “the doors to infinity.” Removing the artifact from a burial site unsettled the boy, but he kept the pendant anyway. In the weeks that followed, the boy became troubled and obsessed by the medallion. He and his mother began to have nightmares. In one, the boy’s mother dreamed she and her son were standing in neck-deep water. The boy dropped the medallion in the water. The mother begged him not to go after it. He laughed at her. Then her son dove into the water and disappeared. Three days later, the boy committed suicide by hanging himself from a tree. Archeologists believe the medallion once belonged to Calusa royalty. It has passed hands several times since the boy found it. Those who have owned it say the Calusa gold has brought them nothing but bad news. The pendant and the story behind it inspired Florida author Randy Wayne White when he wrote his mystery novel, Ten Thousand Islands. Many of the islands or “keys” in southwest Florida are manmade mounds, ancient trash heaps built up by seashells discarded by the Calusa Indians, who thrived on Florida’s southwest coast before the Spaniards showed up, bringing their warfare and their diseases with them. Over hundreds of years, subtropical vegetation has turned the Calusa mounds into islands. Archeologists say that many of these mounds are burial sites. One of the tallest Calusa mounds is Chokoloskee Key, just outside Everglades National Park. At Chokoloskee there is a boat launch where adventurers slide their kayaks into the water, ease their bodies into their boats, and start paddling toward the “Ten Thousand Islands,” an area of the park which is mostly underwater.

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Bloody Ed angled with mangrove roots, infested with mosquitoes, and guarded by alligators, Florida’s Ten Thousand Islands are the perfect refuge for a man hiding from a bloody past. Perhaps this is why Ed Watson showed up here around 1896, after he killed at least two people out west. Not long after his arrival, Watson bought one of the Ten Thousand Islands from a widow and turned the overgrown Calusa mound into a lucrative sugarcane farm. Back then, most folks would rather share a canoe with a cottonmouth than rub up against Ed Watson’s temper. An uncanny number of his employees disappeared on payday. And when two squatters refused to vacate Lostman’s Key, Ed killed them. But it wasn’t until 1910, when a couple of clam diggers found the body of Hanna Smith, a well-liked woman and one of Watson’s employees, floating in the river that the people of Chokoloskee decided to confront the man they called “Bloody Ed.” On October 24, 1910, a posse of angry men met Watson on the beach in front of the Smallwood Store on Chokoloskee Island. There

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An old cistern still remains at the homeplace of Bloody Ed.

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was an argument. Watson said he was innocent and could prove it. He had killed the man responsible. When the posse asked for proof, Watson held up a hat with a bullet hole in it and laughed. The good people of Chokoloskee had had their fill of Ed Watson. Some said Watson shot first, but others said it was nothing more than a vigilante lynching when the posse emptied their guns into Mr. Watson, waited a day, and then dragged Watson’s body by boat out to Rabbit Key, where they buried him in the sand with a noose around his neck, just to make sure Watson was good and dead. Days later, Watson’s family exhumed his body and laid him to rest in a cemetery at Ft. Meyers. The man Watson blamed for the murder was never seen or heard from again. The vigilantes were never prosecuted. Who murdered Hannah Smith and how many people did Watson actually murder during his lifetime? Only Bloody Ed knows for sure, and he isn’t talking. Watson’s island, a 40-acre Calusa mound, lies within the boundaries of Everglades National Park. The NPS demolished Watson’s two-story house in 1960, but the concrete stilts on which it stood remain. As do a few pieces of farm machinery and a small water cistern. Is the Watson Place cursed by the spirits of the Calusa? Writer Peter Matthiessen suggested as much in his acclaimed historical novel Killing Mister Watson. Though it could be just a strange coincidence that two white men who owned this particular Calusa mound suffered similar fates. You see, Watson bought the island for $250 from a widow anxious to get rid of the place. Seems her husband had up and killed one of her neighbors, and when he refused to turn himself in, a group of lawmen filled his body full of lead. If the Calusa spirits at the Watsons’ place don’t possess you with homicidal tendencies, the mosquitoes certainly will. Locals tell me the place is rumored to be haunted, but I was unable to locate any eyewitnesses to any ghosts. Rangers tell me you should watch yourself if you go poking around the place; an ill-tempered alligator lives near the old cistern. Hike: Watson Place

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Battle of the Beasts here’s nothing supernatural about this story, but it’s still weird. In February 2004, Mike and Donna Mercier were hiking the Pay-HayOkee Overlook Trail when they stumbled upon a gripping, survival-ofthe-fittest battle. A Burmese python had its coils around a Florida alligator, which in turn had the snake clamped in its jaws. The 12-foot-

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12-foot gator battles python in Everglades.

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long alligator rolled and rolled until the snake weakened or died. When the alligator swam off with the snake clenched in its mouth, Mike Mercier ran down the wooden boardwalk, chasing after the victor and snapping pictures. He told me the alligator had kept one eye on him the entire time. Rangers weren’t surprised when Mercier told them his tale. The year before, tourists and rangers watched another alligator battle it out with a python near the Anhinga Trail. The reptiles remained in a 24-hour standoff before the snake broke free and slithered off into the glade. Then, in September 2005, a pilot and wildlife researcher found a 13-foot python that had burst wide open after it tried to swallow a live, six-foot alligator whole. Park biologists say pet owners have been releasing their pet snakes into the park and now these pythons are breeding in the Everglades, wreacking havoc on the normal ecosystem. More than 150 pythons were caught inside Everglades National Park within a two-year period. Some of the snakes caught were over 10 feet long. Though squirrels and possums have the most to fear, feral pythons can pose a risk to humans as well. In Southeast Asia, their native habitat, Burmese pythons grow to be more than 20 feet long and have been known to devour people and livestock. Hikes: Anhinga Trail and Pay-Hay-Okee Overlook

THE HIKES Watson Place MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

26-plus Strenuous Water Route The only way to get to the Watson Place is by boat. The closest launch is at Chokoloskee, near Everglades City. If you are new to kayak touring, hire Mark Quinn, of Adventure Safaris, to guide you there.

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Everglades Watson Place

DESCRIPTION:

If the tides and winds are right, an experienced paddler can include the Watson Place as a stop on a fourday loop. There are a multitude of acceptable itineraries but here’s one way to do it. Launch from Chokoloskee Island and paddle through Rabbit Key Pass. Camp on Pavilion Key (10 miles) the first night. From Pavilion Key, it’s a four-mile paddle to the mouth of the Chatham River Bend. Go another four miles up river to the Watson Place where you can stay the second night. Store your food in animal proof containers;

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Anhinga Trail and Pay-Hay-Okee Overlook MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.5 Easy Anhinga starts at the Royal Palm Visitor Center on the main park road, about 10 miles southwest of Homestead. Pay-Hay-Okee is 12 miles south of the visitor center. The Anhinga Trail boardwalk takes you through Taylor Slough. (A slough is a deeper channel of water in the wide, shallow river that makes up the Everglades.) The bird watching is fantastic and your chances of seeing an alligator are excellent. The trail name comes from the “snakebird” or Anhinga, a black bird with a long neck. From the Royal Palm Visitor Center, drive another 12 miles to the Pay-Hay-Okee Overlook Trail. This boardwalk leads to an observation tower and a view of the expansive saw grass prairie.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year but winter is best. Bug spray, sunscreen, and fresh drinking water are mandatory items no matter when you go.

Contacts EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK: 941-695-3311; www.nps.gov/ever Guided tours and kayak rentals: Adventure Safaris, 239-458-0836; www.adventuresafaris.net

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BISCAYNE Fifteen Spaniards on a Dead Man’s Silver uring your boat tour out to Elliott Key, a slender island off the coast of Miami, the park ranger may neglect to mention the legend of Biscayne Bay’s black pirate. But if ranger Gary Bremen happens to be your guide, and you ask nicely (and you are old enough to see Rrated movies), the cheerful public servant might stop talking about the colorful coral reefs, playful dolphins, and cute little sea turtles long enough to tell you about a few of Black Caesar’s murderous ways. Weak of stomach beware. What Black Caesar tales may lack in credibility, they make up for in gruesome creativity. According to legends that go back many generations, Henri Caesar, a former slave, escaped from Haiti sometime during the 1700s, traveled to Florida and became a pirate. Black Caesar killed his victims by tying them to the rocks below the high tide line, where they drowned slowly in the incoming waves. Apparently, as the story goes, Henri Caesar captured a Spanish Galleon in 1798, brought the Spaniards to Elliott Key, and made them dig a hole for the silver he stole from them. Then Black Caesar killed the poor suckers and dumped their bodies into the hole along with the treasure. But that’s nothing compared to the Black Caesar’s sandwich treatment, putting a person between two boards and sawing them in Hikers prepare for a day of humid hiking on half—from the feet up. Elliott Key.

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Although stories about Henri Caesar have been told for hundreds of years, historians have found no proof that Florida’s sadistic African-American pirate ever existed. Ranger Brenner speculates that at least “parts and pieces” of the legend might be true. Especially when you take into account that the waterway between Elliott and Old Rhodes Keys is called “Caesar’s Creek.” But here’s a twist to the Black Caesar mystery. A park archeologist recently discovered an ancient British nautical map of the keys. On this old chart, the Brits listed Caesar’s Creek as “Black Sarah’s Creek.” Was the notorious black pirate of Elliott Key really a woman? Hike: Elliott Key

THE HIKE Elliott Key MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

1 to 13 Easy to Moderate Kids, Water Route From November through May, a concession-operated boat hauls campers and hikers from Convoy Point (nine miles east of Homestead on S.W. 328th Street) out to Elliott Key for $25.95. If you’re only interested in going for the day, sign on for the ranger-guided glass bottom boat trip, a “three-hour tour” that leaves daily at 10:00 A.M. and costs $24.45. On windy days, you’ll get to enjoy a relatively bug-free hike on the island. On calm days, you’ll spend more time exploring the coral reefs where there’s a good chance of spotting dolphins and sea turtles. While on the tour, ask the ranger to point out Caesar’s Rock. They say an iron ring on this rock was used by Black Caesar to tie down the mast of his pirate ship in order to hide it from his unsuspecting victims.

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At first, due to the gore, I hesitated to list this trip as good for kids, but then I realized Black Caesar had that horror comic theme most red-blooded 12-year-olds can’t get enough of. From Elliott Harbor, you can hike a self-guided nature trail (one mile) or a trail that traverses the entire length of the key (6.75 miles one-way). Head south from the harbor to see Caesar Creek on Adams Key. Head north to visit the island’s best sandy beach. A campground on the bay side of Elliott Key has cold showers and restrooms.

Biscayne National Park Elliott Key

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Winter has fewer mosquitoes. During the summer the water is warmer and clearer, making for better snorkeling.

Contacts BISCAYNE NATIONAL PARK: 305-230-7272; www.nps.gov/bisc Kayak rentals and glass bottom boat tour information: 305-230-1100

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BIG CYPRESS Like Vomit Mixed with Rotten Fish ehind the palmettos inside Florida’s Big Cypress National Preserve lurks a monster with a name only a southerner could think up—the Skunk Ape. It won’t surprise you to learn the Skunk Ape stinks. But his reek does nothing to cramp his appeal; he’s been featured in hundreds of media articles, hundreds of people are proud to say they have seen him,and several filmmakers have told his story. Like Bigfoot, the Skunk Ape is tall, hairy, and has an uncanny ability to visit an area without leaving any convincing forensic evidence behind. The Skunk Ape may be sneaky but he’s not shy: scores of people have seen or smelled him, casts have been taken of his prints, and he’s been captured on film at least three times. Dave Shealy, owner of the Florida Panther Campground north of Big Cypress, photographed His Furriness strolling through the swamps behind his campThe Skunk Ape walks through a meadow near ground. And another local the Big Cypress Preserve. resident, Vince Doerr, snapped a fuzzy picture of something big and hairy walking through the pines near the Turner River Road. Doerr, a former fire chief, said he believed the creature he photographed was only a man in a gorilla suit. Like Doerr, refuge biologist Larry Richardson doubts that skunk apes could be living in the Big Cypress. “If we have an animal so smart that it doesn’t get hit by a car or get shot,” Richardson told a reporter for the Naples Daily News, “we need to bring him in and talk him into running for Congress.” Hikes: The Florida Trail, Concho Billy and Fire Prairie Trails

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THE HIKES The Florida Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

1 to 13 Moderate The trail crosses Highway 41 at the Big Cypress Visitor Center. The Big Cypress section of the Florida National Scenic Trail will take you deep into Skunk Ape habitat. The southern route is well-marked, but it may be underwater during the summer rainy season. The southern section ends in 6.5 miles at Loop Road. The northbound route goes all the way to Gulf Islands National Seashore. There are two backcountry campsites along the trail. The first is 6.9 miles north of the visitor center.

Big Cypress The Florida Trail, Concho Billy Trail, Fire Prairie Trail

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Concho Billy and Fire Prairie Trails MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

5 Easy Bicycles North of the Tamiami Trail (Highway 41) and on the Turner River Road (County Road 839). The Turner River Road is a Skunk Ape hotspot. The Concho Billy and Fire Prairie Trails are open to hikers and mountain bikers. These multi-purpose routes follow old roads through hardwood and cypress trees and open prairies. Because these trails are elevated, they will be dry when the Florida Trail is waterlogged.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Winter is cooler and less buggy. Bring the mosquito repellant. Each year Dave Shealy hosts a Skunk Ape Festival at his Trail Lakes Campground (404904 Tamiami Trail, East Ochopee, Florida). The event includes live music, swamp buggy rides, and a Ms. Skunk Ape contest. (Ms. Skunk Ape is awarded a bouquet of bananas.) Go to www.skunkape.info or call 239-695-2275 for more information.

Contact BIG CYPRESS NATIONAL PRESERVE: 941-695-2000; www.nps.gov/bicy

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VIRGIN ISLANDS Watch Out for Dem Jumbies f you ask for directions to St. John’s Jumby Beach, the locals might say, “Don’t ya even tink about going dere, mon. You go dere and dem bad jumbies gwanna hex you good.” Jumby comes from the African djumbe which means “malevolent supernatural being.” Jumbies, depending on their mood, can be fun and playful or they can be mean and spiteful. Some have suggested that the ghosts at Jumby Beach are nothing more than a brilliant story made up by locals who would rather keep this gorgeous little bay to themselves. If so, the tactic isn’t particularly effecGhosts have claimed this lovely Virgin Island beach for tive, because, as themselves—Jumby Beach. these things often go, out-of-towners rarely heed the warnings of locals. “Jumbies are big around here,” says Virgin Islands ranger Mike O’Neil. One night, O’Neil was participating in an operation to catch drug smugglers coming to the island by boat. During the planning session, an out-of-town cop asked if a team of officers should hide in the mangrove and conduct an overnight surveillance from the Annaberg Ruins. A local officer told the group he didn’t think that was such a good idea. A female jumby lived at Annaberg, and this jumby liked to fatigue men until they fell asleep and then she would rape them. O’Neil says, despite the warning, several male cops eagerly volunteered for the Annaberg stakeout. Hikes: Jumby Beach, Annaberg Ruins

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The Dead Have No Navels ver five hundred years ago, St. John was inhabited by the Taino Indians. Examples of Taino rock drawings can be seen on the Petroglyph Trail. They are etched into the rock above the tiny pool of fresh water frequented by bats. Each night, these bats dance in the air above the pool, hunting for bugs. Anthropologists believe the bats, which live in caves by day and exit into the world at night, were worshiped by the Taino, who believed the bat cave was a supernatural shaft connecting the two realms of the universe and that bats were messengers of dead ancestors who had crossed over into the underworld. Some archeologists speculate that the “fat faces” carved into the rock near this cave represent “Zemis,” spiritual beings who rule the souls of the dead. In his highly acclaimed book, Memory of Fire: Genesis, Uruguayan historian Eduardo Galeano writes that the Taino believed the dead went on nightly strolls to taunt the living. Male ghosts challenged you to a duel, and female spirits offered you love. In the duels the dead men vanished at will, and at the climax of lovemaking, the lover found himself with nothing in his arms. Legends of the Taino warn us that before you accept a duel with a man or make love to a woman, you should take one hand and feel the person’s belly . . . for “the dead have no navels.” Hike: Reef Bay/Petroglyph Trail

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Haunted by Sins of the Past he chief ranger of the Virgin Islands lives in Lameshur House, an old plantation home on a remote bay once inhabited by a Danish family. One morning, the chief ranger’s wife encountered a stranger in her house. The black woman wore a white dress, and cradled a small child in her arms. The ranger’s wife greeted the woman good morning, but the woman only glared at her and left. The encounter with the woman upset the ranger’s wife. She asked her husband to check around to see if anyone knew anything about this unfriendly lady. A few days later, the chief ranger ran into a local artist and told

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her about the silent black woman his wife had seen at Lameshur House. The artist blanched, “That’s the ghost of the woman whose child was murdered by that family,” she said. “She’s still grieving for her daughter.” The artist told the chief ranger that she, too, had seen the hostile woman, while walking the beach at Lameshur Bay. “The whites who owned slaves at the Lameshur House were bastards,” Ranger O’Neil explains, “who did tragic and horrific things to their slaves.” In 1848, after a series of bloody revolts, the Danes on the island finally freed their slaves, but the hard labor continued. Milling sugar from cane became the main source of income on the island. The ruins of these sugar mills are scattered all over the St. John. Many locals will tell you these ruins, like Annanberg, are haunted by those who labored there. Making sugar from cane was a labor intensive process. In 1908, at Reef Bay Mill, a 15-year-old boy died after becoming caught in the cog of the sugar cane crusher. Witnesses watched the cog cut the boy in two pieces. After that, many believed the Reef Bay Mill was cursed and haunted by jumbies. Indeed, things did not go well for the mill’s owner, William Marsh. His son died within a year of the other boy’s death. The rumors of ghosts made it hard for Marsh to hire workers, and in 1916 the mill shut down. Years later, one of Marsh’s daughters was murdered inside the Reef Bay House. Hike: Lameshur Bay

A Yearly Miracle n the night before Easter, a boulder on the north side of St. John Island rolls down the slope to the sea, takes a drink of water, and then returns to its perch on the hillside. No one has ever seen this rock move, but locals say that even on the driest of nights, Easter Rock will be wet come Easter morning. Skeptics may find the geologic story behind Easter Rock to be nearly as incredible as the myth. There is a reason this huge boulder seems so out of place. Thousands of years ago, it was spit out of the mouth of a volcano many miles away. Hike: Peace Hill Trail

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THE HIKES Jumby Beach MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.1 Easy From Cruz Bay, head east on North Shore Road. Pass by Peace Hill and continue 0.2 mile to a small parking area on your right. Cross the road from the parking area and walk east. A set of wooden stairs leads you to the beach. Don’t be shocked if you see lots of skin. Jumby Beach has become a favorite with nude sunbathers. Let’s just hope they all have belly buttons.

St. John Virgin Islands Jumby Beach, Annaberg Ruins, Reef Bay/Petroglyph Trail, Lameshur Bay, Peace Hill Trail

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Annaberg Ruins MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

MEN:

WOMEN:

0.25 Easy At the end of the paved portion of Leinster Bay Road. A self-guided walking tour of the ruins begins a short distance up the hill from the picnic area. Look for wading birds out on the shallow reef flats and listen to the creepy scratchings of land crabs in the tropical vegetation. The British Virgin Islands can be seen from the overlook at the ruins. Anna berge is Danish for “Anna’s Hill.” Anna being the daughter of an absentee plantation owner.

Reef Bay/Petroglyph Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

6 Moderate On Centerline Road, five miles east of Cruz Bay. To avoid the uphill hike back to the car, sign up for the ranger-guided hike, which includes a boat trip from Reef Bay back to Cruz Bay. Stop by at the visitor center in Cruz Bay for times. This popular excursion explores both the natural and cultural history of St. John. The Petroglyph Trail branches off to the right 1.5 miles from the trailhead. Take this path and in about 0.2 mile you’ll come to a small freshwater pool. The glyphs are faint and near the waterline at the far right end of the pool. Back on the trail to Reef Bay, continue until you come to a fork. The left (east) path will take you to the decrepit Reef Bay House, where Anna Marsh, the last resident of this house, was murdered for her jewelry. The right fork takes you to the sugar factory ruins and the beach. South of the trail, behind the horse mill and about 20 yards from the beach, you’ll find the grave of W. H. Marsh.

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Lameshur Bay MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

3 Moderate You need a four-wheel-drive vehicle to reach this trailhead, so those without one should do this trail as part of the Reef Bay hike. Take Centerline Road to Coral Bay and then take Route 107. After passing Saltpond Bay, the road gets rough, climbing a steep hill before descending to Lameshur Bay. There are some ruins near the trailhead. This trail is hot and exposed to the sun. Two short spur trails lead to interesting sites. The first goes to Europa Bay, a coral rubble beach, and the second will take you all the way to Reef Bay. From Lameshur Bay it’s 2.6 miles to the sugar mill ruins at Reef Bay.

Peace Hill Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.2 Easy From Cruz Bay, take the North Shore Road for 2.8 miles to the parking lot. Look for the mystical Easter Rock on your way up. It’s on the side of the road about a hundred yards from the parking lot. The trail goes up the hill to a grassy overlook with views of Hawksnest Bay.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year.

Contact VIRGIN ISLANDS NATIONAL PARK: 340-776-6238; www.nps.gov/viis

EASTERN MOUNTAINS

A misty day in the Eastern Mountains.

BIG SOUTH FORK A Man of Constant Sorrow e have to thank the law of “Eminent Domain” for many of the places we now enjoy as national parks. However, whenever the federal government takes land from people unwilling to give it up, whenever the government forces people to leave their homes, hearts are bound to be broken, and some spirits may never recover. For more than 50 years, Oscar Blevins lived in a cabin, a simple long structure built in 1870, and farmed the grassy fields near Bandy Creek. In 1975, the government condemned Blevins’s property to include it into the newly established Big South Fork National Park. Thirteen years later, in 1988, Oscar Blevins died. An acquaintance of Mr. Blevins told ranger Howard Duncan that poor old Oscar had “grieved himself to death over the loss of his farm.” After Mr. Blevins passed away, park staff began to notice unusual things at the Blevins Farmstead. According to NPS cultural historian Tom Des Jean, more than one ranger reported getting the “willies” while at Oscar’s farm. One hot summer evening, a ranger was unsaddling a horse inside the corral behind the barn when his hair stood up on end. Someone was watching him. The ranger looked behind him. Just outside the barn stood an old fellow wearing bib overalls and a black slouch hat. The ranger hailed the man in the overalls and continued to unsaddle his horse. Then he carried the saddle into the barn so that he could chat with the elderly park visitor when he was done. But in the time it took the ranger to set the saddle down and come out of the barn, the old man had vanished. The old man with the slouch hat appeared again sometime in the early 1990s. Early one morning, the Bandy Creek wrangler went to Oscar’s farm to pick up a horse and load it into his trailer. As the wrangler led the horse out of the barn, the horse stopped at the barn door and reared back. This behavior was out of character for this normally

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Uncle Jake Blevins, a relative of Oscar, is wearing the overalls and slouch hat similar to what Oscar wore before he died.

docile mare. Coaxing the horse with encouraging words, the wrangler pulled on the halter, but the mare absolutely refused to cross the threshold of the barn door. Suddenly the wrangler’s scalp began to prickle. Feeling a presence, the wrangler looked over his shoulder. Standing not more than 30 feet from the doorway of the Blevins cabin was an old man wearing bib overalls and a slouch hat. “She won’t come out will she?” the old man said, sending chills down the wrangler’s spine and causing the mare to fight the lead. Returning his attention to the horse, the wrangler grappled with the desperate animal. As soon as he got the mare under control, the wrangler looked around for the old man, but he was nowhere to be found. He never claimed to have seen a ghost, but the wrangler told rangers the experience had certainly rattled him. Ranger Howard Duncan described the wrangler, who is now a Special Agent with the D.E.A., as “a fellow who does not frighten easily.” Hike: Oscar Blevins’s Farm

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A Town of Cultured Ghosts istoric Rugby has a museum, a gift shop of local handmade crafts, and a café serving tasty southern meals. Visitors to the Big South Fork often stop here for a quick stroll through the quaint village of Victorian homes, including a pink church and a well-stocked library that seem out of place in the backwoods of Tennessee. Founded in 1880 by an idealistic social reformer named Thomas Hughes, the community of Rugby is something historians call a “failed social experiment.” Hughes intended to transform this patch of Tennessee wilderness into a utopian community of highbrowed Englishmen. Sadly, mysterious fires, the hard labor of frontier living, and a typhoid epidemic threw several wrenches into Hughes’s noble plan. Today, Rugby has a reputation for being a “town of cultured ghosts.” The spirit of the fussy German librarian, Edouard Bertz, lingers in the library. A snoring ghost sleeps in the Thomas Hughes cottage. A sobbing woman in an old-fashioned dress walks the halls of the Roslyn House. And in his book, Strange Tales of a Dark and Bloody Ground, Christopher Coleman says visitors to the Roslyn House have heard the clatter of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels thundering up to the building, circling in front, and then galloping down High Street, disappearing into the forest near the town cemetery. Some suspect the phantom carriage driver is Jesse Tyson, a former resident of the Roslyn House. As a young man, Jesse loaded passengers into his tallyho carriage and galloped his horses down the rocky road to the Gentleman’s Swimming Hole on the Clear Fork River. A park service trail following the old road Jesse Tyson took to the Gentleman’s Swimming Hole begins at a graveyard—the historic Laurel Dale Cemetery—where many of Rugby’s early colonists are buried, including Thomas Hughes’s mother and seven victims of the 1881 typhoid epidemic. Hike: Gentleman’s Swimming Hole

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The Hurricane Haint ocals say that if you walk down to the confluence of the Big South Fork River and Hurricane Creek, you may encounter a white vaporous mist they call “the Hurricane Haint,” an amorphous white vapor that hovers over the ground. Hurricane Creek is in one of the more remote sections of the park. Very few people have ventured deep enough into the park to see the Hurricane Haint. When he was in his late teens, ranger Jimmy Barna and his friends camped along the Big South Fork River, north of Station Camp Creek and south of Hurricane Creek. After drinking copious amounts of beer, one by one the young men retired to the tent they all shared. Suddenly, the last man outside the tent yelled for Barna to throw his camera outside. Something weird, he said, like a ghost, was hovering outside their tent. Barna threw out the camera, telling his friend to shut up and go to bed. Barna saw the flashes as his friend took three pictures in rapid succession. Several months passed by before Barna developed the film from that night, so he had forgotten about the haint. That is until he looked at his photographs. In one of the three his friend took that night, an image of a weird amorphous white “ghost” hovers in front of the trees. Hike: Hurricane Creek via Cub Branch

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The Hurrican Haint of Big South Fork.

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THE HIKES Oscar Blevins’s Farm MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3.2 Easy Take a short connecting path from the visitor center or campground at Bandy Creek. This loop tours the grounds of Oscar Blevins’s beloved farm and follows along Bandy Creek, a brook lined with rock shelters used by the Indians long before the Blevins cabin was built in 1870.

Big South Fork Oscar Blevins’s Farm

Gentleman’s Swimming Hole MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

0.8 Moderate In Rugby, leave Route 52 at the sign for the road lead-

Big South Fork Gentleman’s Swimming Hole

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DESCRIPTION:

ing to Laurel Dale Cemetery. The cemetery and the start of the loop trail are at the end of the road, a halfmile from Route 52. Walk softly. Turkeys, whitetail deer, and foxes are often spotted here. A quick descent takes you to the Gentleman’s Swimming Hole, a wonderful spot, especially when the fall colors are reflected in the dark waters of the pool.

Hurricane Creek via Cub Branch MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

8.5 Moderate From Oneida, take the Big Ridge Road toward Fosters Cross Roads. At the end of the pavement, take the gravel Cliff Terry Road out to the end. The Cub Branch Trail is the path heading left (west). In 4.2 miles, you will reach the confluence of Hurricane Creek and the Big South Fork River. This horse trail is in a remote area of the park. I suggest you bring a topographic map with you.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Fall colors are fantastic. During the last two weekends of October the community of Rugby hosts a “Ghostly Gathering.” The festival includes a chili cornbread dinner, lantern tours, and fireside storytelling. Advance reservations are recommended for this popular event.

Contacts BIG SOUTH FORK NATIONAL RIVER HISTORIC

RECREATIONAL AREA: 423-569-9778; www.nps.gov/biso RUGBY: 888-214-3400; www.historicrugby.org AND

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GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS Childhood Ambitions ne day, the teacher asked young Robert Palmer what he wanted to be when he grew up. A perfectly innocent question, but Robert Palmer was painfully shy. He put his head down on his desk for an uncomfortable pause. Then he laughed and said, “The Boogerman.” Palmer lived up to his early ambition. He grew his hair wild and his beard long. He lived in a cabin way back in a hollow near a creek called Snake Branch. And as he got older, Palmer enjoyed scaring the Tootsie Rolls out of any kids brave enough to venture onto his property. But thank goodness for the Boogerman. If Robert Palmer hadn’t been such a grumpasaurus, he might have sold his land to the greedy lumber companies. Today, Palmer’s land is part of a national park, and The Boogerman Trail travels through one of the few old growth forests remaining in the Great Smoky Mountains. Hike: The Boogerman Loop

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Fatal Attraction ccording to legend, a Cherokee woman died while searching the mountains for her missing lover, White Eagle, after he failed to return home from a hunting trip. She was found frozen to death near what is now the Appalachian Trail at Mollie’s Ridge. They say “Mollie,” the name given to the Cherokee woman, still searches the ridge for her lost lover. Her spirit is seen at night or in A snowy day on Mollie’s Ridge.

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the early morning mists. Those with “Y” chromosomes should be particularly wary. Some say this lovelorn lady only haunts men. Hike: Mollie’s Ridge via the Appalachian Trail Darkness Falls Fast at the hiker shelter on Mollie’s Ridge.

Mass Murder Vanishes inside National Park illiam Bishop, Jr., worked for the state department. He had a master’s degree in African studies from Yale. He spoke several languages and had lived in several foreign countries, including Italy and Botswana. He was an avid outdoorsman. He owned a nice home in a nice neighborhood near Washington, D.C. He had a wife and three children. He drove a station wagon. He bludgeoned five people to death with a baseball bat. Allegedly. We don’t know for certain who killed William Bishop’s mother, wife, and children inside their Bethesda, Maryland home on March 1, 1976. We don’t know who left behind massive amounts of blood on the walls and floors of the Bishop’s upscale suburban home. We don’t know who dragged their bodies out of the house and into a bronze 1974 Chevrolet station wagon. We don’t know who drove the bodies of Bishop’s mother, wife, and children to a remote pine forest in North Carolina, dumped the bodies in a pit, poured gasoline over them, and lit a match. And we don’t know who abandoned the Bishops’ station wagon near Elkmont Campground in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We do know this. A month before the murders, William Bradford Bishop was upset when he was not selected for a promotion. We know that Bishop was being treated for alcoholism and that he was taking antidepressants. And we know that he called in sick on March 1, the day before he signed a credit card receipt for $15.60 worth of camping supplies purchased in North Carolina. Inside the station wagon, park rangers found blood-soaked blankets. They also found camping equipment, a loaded 12-gauge shot-

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Mysterious headstones on The Boogerman Trail.

gun, and a long-handled ax with blood on the handle. A bloodhound named J. Edgar tracked Bishop’s scent to the front porch of a cabin near where the station wagon had been found. Though several people told the F.B.I. they had seen a man matching Bishop’s description hiking in the park, the authorities failed to turn up any substantial leads. Did Bishop hike deep into the park and commit suicide where his body would never be found? Did he hide out in the park for several days before making his escape? Was he taken hostage and killed as part of a government conspiracy or cover-up? In July 1979, an acquaintance of Bishop thought she saw the fugitive in Stockholm, Sweden. Four months later, a former employee of Bishop told investigators that he ran into a man who looked like Bishop in a restroom in Sorrento, Italy. Startled by the sight of his fugitive boss, the employee said, “Aren’t you William Bishop?” The man replied, “Oh, my God, no,” and then he ran out the door.

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Teenage Girl Disappears while Hiking ix months after Bishop abandoned his station wagon at Elkmont, Trenny Gibson, 16, disappeared while hiking the trail to Andrews Bald. Trenny was on a school field trip to the park. It was a foggy, rainy day on October 8, 1976. Witnesses said the teenager made it to Andrews Bald by 1:30 P.M., where she ate her lunch with a friend. On the way back, approximately a half-mile from the parking lot at Clingman’s Dome, at around 3:00 that afternoon, a friend watched Trenny hiking alone and ahead of the group. It was the last time the high school junior was ever seen.

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Trenny Gibson and her kidnapper may have used this section of the Appalachian Trail.

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165

By 4:30 P.M., less than two hours after Trenny was last seen, a ranger conducted a hasty search of the trail for the missing girl. By 8:00 P.M., 19 searchers were scouring the area for clues. By the next morning, a full-scale search effort was underway. Searchers found a can of empty beer and three cigarettes near the point on the trail where Trenny was last seen. Several dogs tracked Trenny’s scent to a point about 1.6 miles from the parking lot, on the paved road to Clingman’s Dome. Eight cigarette butts of the same brand found at the spot Trenny was last seen were found there. Trenny did not smoke and no students admitted to smuggling beer along for the field trip. There was no indication that Trenny was depressed or contemplating suicide. Some of the students suggested Trenny might have hitched a ride and run away, but the Gibsons were certain their daughter would not have left the park unless it was against her will. If their daughter had planned to run away, why did she leave behind $200 in her bedroom and all the money in her bank account? The F.B.I. had two theories for Trenny’s disappearance. The first was that she had been abducted where the Andrews Bald trail meets the Appalachian Trail. Then, under cover of fog, her captor took her to the tower at Clingman’s Dome. From there, she was hiked to the spot on the road where the cigarette butts were found and then she was placed in a vehicle and taken out of the park. Another theory is that the teenager stepped off of the trail and became disoriented in the fog. After becoming separated from her group, Trenny was either abducted or she wandered so deeply into the park, that her body could not be found. Disappearances in national parks are as heartbreaking as they are terrifying, especially when the victims are children. Juanitta Baldwin and Ester Grubb wrote a compassionate book titled Unsolved Disappearances in the Great Smoky Mountains, which offers more details about the Trenny Gibson investigation and other tragic stories of people who have gone missing while hiking in the Great Smokies. In Unsolved Disappearances, Trenny’s mother, Hope Collins, advises the authors: “Tell your readers that my faith is stronger than ever . . . Somebody knows what happened to [Trenny]. I pray that God will lay such a burden on their heart that they must tell.” Hike: Andrews Bald via Forney Ridge

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The Devil’s Footsteps cientists can’t fully explain why the grassy meadows found at the higher elevations of the park are never overgrown by forest succession. According to pioneer folklore, Smoky Mountain “balds” are “the Devil’s footsteps,” because trees won’t grow where the Devil steps on the mountains. Scientific explanations for the balds are less imaginative. Early settlers may have cleared them in order to graze their cattle. The Cherokee may have burned them. Or nature may create them somehow, perhaps through soil conditions or wild animal grazing. All perfectly sensible theories. Except that none of them have been proven.

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THE HIKES The Boogerman Loop MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

6.5 Moderate Kids Take the Cove Creek Road Exit (Exit 23) off Interstate 40. Go west following Cove Creek Road for seven miles until you reach the park entrance. Follow the signs to Cataloochee. The trailhead is just beyond the campground. An awesome trail through a scenic old growth forest protected by the Boogerman. After crossing the Rough Fork Creek over the longest footbridge in the park, and the first of 14 bridge crossings on this hike, take the Caldwell Fork trail, a well-used horse-packing route, for 0.8 mile to the first junction with the Boogerman Loop (closed to horses). For a more gradual climb, stay on the Caldwell Fork trail for another two miles to the second junction. Get on the Boogerman here and begin a moderate climb. You will see stone walls

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Great Smoky Mountains The Boogerman Loop

and structures along the trail that were part of Robert Palmer’s homestead.

Mollie’s Ridge via the Appalachian Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

18 Strenuous On the north side of Fontana Dam, northeast of Fontana Village. Hiker parking is on the south side of the dam. Get a taste of an A.T. (Appalachian Trail) thru-hiker’s life on this backpack into the heart of the park. The white-blazed A.T. crosses Fontana Dam and begins to climb the crest of the Smokies. You reach the first shelter, Birch Springs, in 4.2 miles. Bears are frequently seen in this area so store your food properly. At the Doe Knob, you cross the Tennessee/Carolina border and the majority of your climbing is behind you. About an hour’s walk from the knob, you enter Devil’s Tater Patch, a windy ridge top studded with twisted

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Great Smoky Mountains Mollie’s Ridge

trees. After the tater patch, you come to the hiker shelter on Mollie’s Ridge. A.T. shelters get mighty crowded during the thru-hiking season, so be sure to get reservations or plan on having to pitch a tent in a less popular spot.

Andrews Bald via Forney Ridge MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3.6 Moderate Forney Ridge parking area near the end of Clingman’s Dome Road. The mist-shrouded boreal forest lends this hike a watch-out-for-the-Big-Bad-Wolf ambiance. The first

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Great Smoky Mountains Andrews Bald

mile is downhill, then you’ll enjoy an easy walk across the saddle before making a climb to the bald. Bring a jacket. This high-country walk gets quite chilly, especially on foggy days.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Fall colors are astonishing but the park will be crowded. Winter is cold and quiet. Spring wildflowers are world class. Your best chance at seeing the Elkmont lightning bugs is from June 1 to June 25.

Contact GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS NATIONAL PARK: 865-436-1200; www.nps.gov/grsm

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BLUE RIDGE PARKWAY File This One under X onnecting Great Smoky Mountains and Shenandoah National Parks, the Blue Ridge Parkway might be the most scenic 469 miles of road east of the Rocky Mountains. Big Witch Gap, Devil’s Backbone, and Purgatory Mountain are among the many landmarks seen along this winding ribbon of a park. At Graveyard Fields, a ridge scorched by a 1925 wildfire, hundreds of dead tree stumps mark the grassy slopes like headstones in a cemetery. One hundred miles north of Graveyard Fields, the curves in the road begin to expose views of a long mountain ridge composed of cranberry granite. This broad tabletop ridge isn’t a particularly noteworthy peak. At least when see by the light of day. After dark, that’s when the views of Brown Mountain get very interesting.

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MULDER: Brown Mountain, Scully. That doesn’t ring a bell? SCULLY:

No.

MULDER: Brown Mountain Lights? It’s a famous atmospheric phenomenon dating back nearly 700 years, witnessed by thousands of people, back to the Cherokee Indians. Strange multicolored lights are seen dancing above the peak of the mountain. There’s been no geological explanation, no scientific credible explanation at all. SCULLY:

And, what does that have to do with these two [dead people]?

MULDER: Well, as I said, there is no scientific explanation, but there are those of us that believe that these multicolored lights are really . . . SCULLY:

UFOs. Extra-terrestrial visitors from beyond who apparently have nothing better to do than buzz one mountain for 700 years.

MULDER: It sounds like crap when you say it. (X-files episode 6X21, Field Trip, 1999)

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The Brown Mountain Lights.

A definitive explanation for the Brown Mountain lights has eluded scientists since German engineer Gerard Will de Brahnm encountered a mountain in North Carolina which emitted “nitrous vapors borne by the wind” in 1771. The Cherokee believed the lights floating through the trees were the spirits of Indian maidens searching for the bodies of their braves who were slain while battling the Catawba Indians during the year 1200. White settlers attributed the lights to the nightly wanderings of a variety of ghosts, including a woman murdered by her husband and left for dead on the mountain, and a slave who searches the forest by lantern light for his lost master. Taking a more scientific approach, the U.S. Geological Survey concluded in 1913 that the Brown Mountain lights were coming from locomotives traveling through the Catawba Valley. However, their theory fell apart three years later when a flood wiped out the railroad but the lights continued to appear as before. People reported seeing these lights well before the Civil War, but modern skeptics blame automobiles and “the refractions of artificial lights” for what glows over Brown Mountain. Foxfire (a phosphorescent fungus found in rotting logs), lightning activity, radioactive ore, moonshine stills, and burps of swamp gas are among the many theories skeptics throw at the phenomenon. But even the scientists admit there are also the “true” Brown Mountain lights, which are rarely seen bluewhite or yellow lights that fade to red before vanishing, the source of

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which they have failed to adequately explain. Inside the Pisgah National Forest, the U. S. Forest Service has put up a sign designating the spot (east of the Blue Ridge Parkway on NC 181) as an official Brown Mountain lights viewpoint. On the parkway, Beacon Heights is the best place for watching the “spook lights.” To increase your chances of seeing them, come during the fall, on a clear night with little or no moonlight. Bring some blankets and a thermos of strong coffee, set up a lawn chair, and watch the skies between the hours of 10:00 P.M. and 2:00 A.M. Sometimes the lights move, weaving through the trees well below the crest of the mountain. If you hike to the top of the ridge, the lights will disappear before you reach them. Hikes: The Devil’s Courthouse, Graveyard Fields Loop, Beacon Heights

Invisible Phantom Kills Cruel Man any Appalachian Trail hikers walk right by the ruins hiding in the brush along Brown Mountain Creek without even seeing them. From 1868 to 1918, a community of black sharecroppers lived here, including Elie Taft Hughes, who had lived on Brown Mountain Creek with his family as a small boy. Hughes was born in 1909 (he died in 1999) and his sister is buried somewhere along Brown Creek. During a 1992 oral interview recorded by Dave Benavitch, Mr. Hughes told a peculiar story that had been passed down to him by his granddaddy. There was a white man named Jess Richardson who owned a bunch of slaves on Brown Mountain Creek before the Civil War. “They said that Jess Richardson was real old,” Hughes recalled, “just tottering along, but he could ride a horse.” One day, one of Richardson’s slaves did something old Jess Richardson didn’t like. A cruel man, Richardson nearly beat the slave to death. Afterwards, old Jess Richardson mounted his horse and headed for home. Riding on what is now the Appalachian Trail, Richardson passed a large boulder along the road. Something unseen jumped off this rock onto the back of Richardson’s horse and grabbed the old man around the waist. In a panic, the horse galloped all the way home. That night a frightened Jess Richardson told his neighbors

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about the phantom that had attacked him that day. The next morning, both old Jess Richardson and his horse were dead from fright. From then on, the residents of Brown Mountain Creek called the boulder “Scare Rock.” Hughes said he knew exactly where along the trail Scare Rock was, but he didn’t reveal the location to his interviewer. Hike: Brown Mountain Creek via The Appalachian Trail

The Declaration of Independence Is the Key uring the winter of 1822, a prospector named Thomas Beale rode across Blackhorse Gap, headed down into Lynchburg, Virginia, and checked into the Washington Hotel. Come spring, before heading out for another summer of prospecting in the West, Beale handed a locked iron box containing “papers of value and importance” to the innkeeper, Robert Morris, for safekeeping. Twenty-three years later, Beale failed to return and Morris opened the box. Inside the box there was a note and three pages of numbers. According to the note, Beale had cached a large quantity of gold and silver in the mountains nearby, but the exact location of the buried treasure was encrypted in three sheets of numeric code. Unable to decipher the code, Morris gave the papers to a friend. As the story goes, the friend broke the code when he discovered that each number corresponded to the first letter in a word in the Declaration of Independence. He deciphered the message as follows:

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“I have deposited in the county of Bedford, about four miles from Buford’s, in an excavation or vault, six feet below the surface of the ground...the deposit consists of two thousand nine hundred and twenty one pounds of gold and five thousand and one hundred pounds of silver . . .” The message placed Beale’s treasure in the vicinity of Bearwallow Gap. However, a more specific location of the cache was revealed in the second and third pages. Of course, these pages were written in a code using a different key. To date, no one has deciphered the rest of the Beale code and

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this continues to intrigue the minds of treasure hunters and professional code breakers. Some dismiss the Beale yarn as an elaborate hoax, although there is evidence that a Thomas Beale from Virginia did indeed travel to the American Southwest to look for gold during the years of 1821–22. Also, Cheyenne legends from the same time period tell the story of a white man who took gold and silver from the West and buried the treasure in the Eastern mountains. Hike: Bearwallow Gap to Blackhorse Gap

Boy Ghost Haunts A.T. Hikers n November 1891, a group of schoolboys left their schoolhouse and entered the forest to gather firewood. Four-year-old Ottie Cline Powell was the only boy who never came back out. Five months later, a hunter found Ottie’s body seven miles from the school near the summit of Bluff Mountain. Hikers say the section of the Appalachian Trail between the Punchbowl Shelter and Bluff Mountain is haunted by the little boy’s spirit. Inside the lean-to, there is a “thru-hiker’s log” in which hikers share tales of a little brat of a ghost who disturbs the sleep of weary backpackers by poking them in the ribs during the night. Hike: Bluff Mountain

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A.T. hikers leave trinkets on Ottie Powell’s Memorial.

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THE HIKES The Devil’s Courthouse MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.85 Moderate In North Carolina at Mile Post (MP) 422.4. The Cherokee Indians believed an evil spirit named Judaculla held court on top of this bare rock summit with a 360-degree view of three different states. Benches line this short but arduous climb up the stone steps to the courthouse.

Graveyard Fields Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

2.2 Moderate In North Carolina at MP 418.8.

Blue Ridge Parkway—North Carolina Devil’s Courthouse, Graveyard Fields, Beacon Heights

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HAUNTED HIKES As far as I know, the Graveyard Fields aren’t haunted, but a foggy day hike on this trail will satisfy anyone hankering for an eerie trek.

Beacon Heights MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.7 Moderate Beacon Heights parking is in North Carolina at MP 305.2. From the southern end of the parking lot, take the path marked Tanawah Trail. Bear right, staying on the Beacon Heights Trail when the Tanawah and Mountains to the Sea Trails descend to the left. Soon you will see several short spurs leading to rock outcroppings with nice views of Brown Mountain.

Brown Mountain Creek via the Appalachian Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

5.6 Moderate This section of Virginia’s Appalachian Trail begins at the Long Mountain Wayside on U.S. 60, a few miles east of MP 45.6 of the parkway. From the wayside, head south on the A.T. A one-mile descent brings you to Brown Mountain Creek, where old stone fences and chimneys from the community of Brown Mountain can still be seen. Scare Rock may be the massive boulder on the western side of the stream near the Brown Mountain Creek footbridge. You can turn around at the bridge and head back the way you came. To extend this hike, you can continue another three miles to the dam at Pedlar Lake.

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Blue Ridge Parkway—Virginia Brown Mountain Creek, Bluff Mountain, Bearwallow Gap

Bearwallow Gap to Blackhorse Gap MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

14.8 Moderate In Virginia, Blackhorse Gap is at MP 97.7 and Bearwallow Gap is at MP 90.9. This section of the Appalachian Trail is a relatively easy stroll following the original route of the famous long distance trek. In fact, the A.T. was here 10 years before the parkway was constructed in 1935. On the downside, the trail is often within sight and sound of the parkway. On the upside, a scenic overlook pops up every few miles, and you might stumble across the

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HAUNTED HIKES Beale treasure. The bummer is that all lost treasures lying within the boundaries of a national park belong to the United States Government.

Bluff Mountain MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

4 Strenuous In Virginia at MP 51.7. Cross to the west side of the road and head southbound on the white-blazed Appalachian Trail. In 0.4 mile you will climb 300 feet to the Punchbowl Shelter. From the shelter, you continue another 0.6 mile, to the top of Bluff Mountain where there are views and a memorial for Ottie Powell. Over the years, hikers have decorated the monument with little charms for Ottie, such as toy cars and plastic soldiers.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Spring, summer, and fall are all good. Roads may be icy in winter.

Contact BLUE RIDGE PARKWAY: 828-298-0398; www.nps.gov/blri

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SHENANDOAH A Name of Mysterious Origin he origin of the word Shenandoah could be a white corruption of the Indian Skahentowane or “Great Meadow.” Or it could have come from Shchinhandowi, an Indian word for “River through the Spruces.” Or maybe Shenandoah means “Silver Water” or “Big Flat Space.” Or maybe it’s from Senedoes, the name of a tribe who lived in the area until they were exterminated by another tribe around 1730. The most poetic guestimate for the meaning of the word Shenandoah is also the most enigmatic: “Daughter of the Stars.”

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If God Were After Him, the First Bolt Would Have Been Enough he profession of park ranger has never been the stress-free occupation most people imagine it to be, but the hazards and hassles Roy Sullivan endured during his 36-year career at Shenandoah take the cake. It started in 1942. Sullivan was at a fire lookout tower when a bolt of lighting zapped him, blowing a toenail right off his big toe. For the next 27 years, Sullivan could still say lightning never strikes twice with a straight face. But that changed in 1969, when another bolt tagged the poor ranger, burning away his eyebrows. Apparently, that other cliché “three strikes you’re out” didn’t apply to Sullivan either: He survived his third strike in 1970 when a bolt zapped him as he walked across his front yard. The fourth strike, in 1972, nabbed him just outside the ranger station, burning his hair. It wasn’t until now that ranger Roy Sullivan began to get a little paranoid. Believing an unseen force was out to get him, and convinced strike number five would surely be fatal, the Shenandoah park ranger would pull over to the side of the road during thunderstorms, lie down on the front seat of his ranger truck, and shiver with fear until the dark clouds passed him by.

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Being a lightning rod didn’t do much to improve Sullivan’s social life. Coworkers called him “Sparky,” and people avoided him on stormy days. Sullivan was walking and chatting with the chief ranger one day when they heard thunder in the distance. “I’ll see you later, Roy,” the chief said, quickly putting distance between himself and his bad luck employee. On August 7, 1973, Sullivan was on patrol when he saw a storm cloud forming in the distance. The park ranger attempted to race the storm, but the cloud followed him. “I actually saw the lightning shoot out of the cloud this time,” Sullivan said to reporters, and “it was coming straight for me.” Strike five set the ranger’s hair on fire, traveled down his arm, and knocked off a shoe. In 1974, Sullivan was patrolling the campground when he detected the aroma of sulphur. He felt his hair bristle and wham! Nailed by strike number six. After a three-year hiatus, the seventh and last strike sent Sullivan to the hospital with chest and stomach burns. Sullivan compared the experience to “being cooked inside of your skin.” Roy Sullivan is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the person who has survived the most lightning strikes. Despite the curse upon him, the ranger made it to retirement and lived to be 71. He died in 1983. The cause of death? A self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.

Murder on the Trail n June 1, 1996, rangers found the bodies of Julianne “Julie” Williams, 24, and Laura “Lollie” Winans, 26, near a backcountry campsite on one of the park’s most popular trails. Winans was found inside the tent while Williams was found, along with her sleeping pad and sleeping bag, about 40 feet away, down an embankment and near the creek. The women were partially nude. Both were gagged and bound at the wrists. The cause of death was determined to be “an incised wound to the neck.” Williams and Winans were described as athletes, and investigators found no evidence of a struggle at the scene, leading some to believe the killer(s) had somehow obtained the women’s trust before they were bound. Williams and Winans were gay. Many believed the

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The reward for information leading to the arrest of Williams and Winans murderer is now at $50,000.

murders were committed by a person with anti-gay motivations, but an F.B.I. spokesman told reporters there had been no “indication that this was a hate crime.” That is if you don’t count killing people because they are women as a hate crime. As reported by Barbara Nordin Fearless in The Hook, many who knew Darrell Rice saw him as an angry man who hated women. And a video camera had recorded Rice entering the park on May 25th, May 26th, and again on June 1st. (Williams and Winans were last seen alive on Friday May 24th when a park ranger gave them a ride to the trailhead. Their time of death is placed at within 30 hours of 10 P.M. on May 28th.) But Darrell Rice didn’t officially become a suspect in the Shenandoah murders until a year later, on July 9, 1997, after he was charged with assaulting a Canadian cyclist while she was cycling along Skyline Drive near milepost 57.5. The cyclist had been able to fight off her assailant by throwing her water bottle at him and using her bike as a barrier, and Rice was eventually caught and convicted of assaulting the cyclist. He is currently serving 11 years in federal prison. The nature of Rice’s crime led investigators to believe he was involved in the Williams and Winans murder. Over the next five years, authorities were able to build a compelling circumstantial case against

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him. In 2002, Rice was indicted for the murders of Williams and Winans and the case was set for trial. But in 2004, in light of new forensic evidence, the charges were dropped. DNA tests showed that hair and other “genetic material” found at the scene belonged to a male other than Rice. Prosecutors say it is possible there was more than one killer. They say Rice is still a suspect. The savage murder of two strong women less than a half-mile from Skyline Lodge on a busy holiday weekend continues to rattle hikers and rangers alike. The murders occurred less than a quarter-mile from Skyline Drive, on a bridle trail leading to the White Oak Canyon Trail. Media reports often refer to this tragedy as “the Appalachian Trail murders” but Williams and Winans were not Appalachian Trail thruhikers, nor were they killed while hiking the A.T. The A.T. runs the entire length of this long, thin park. Pick any spot in Shenandoah and it will be “near the A.T.” It’s been a decade since that horrible day in 1996, and the government has investigated more than 15,000 leads and more than 75 potential suspects. The crime remains unsolved. On an episode of America’s Most Wanted, F.B.I. agent Bill Falls says, “Whoever did this certainly went down there with the intention to murder these people. It was so cold-blooded. It was a methodical killing. He knew what he was doing, and I would almost say he did it without any conscience or remorse and went about his way.” There is a $50,000 dollar reward for any information leading to the capture and conviction of the killer. If you know anything at all that might help solve this case, call your local F.B.I. office. Hike: White Oak Canyon

THE HIKE White Oak Canyon MILES: EFFORT:

4.6 to 7.3 Moderate

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Shenandoah National Park White Oak Canyon

TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

The parking lot at Mile Marker 43 on the east side of Skyline Drive, near Skyland. Take back the trail. Lined with hemlock and oak, the path descends 1,000 feet to an 86-foot high waterfall. If you have time, continue another 1.5 miles down this well-maintained trail to see five more waterfalls.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Fall colors are outstanding but also bring crowds. The waterfalls will be more impressive during the spring.

Contact SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK 540-999-3500; www.nps.gov/shen

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NEW RIVER GORGE Rebel Yell efore they built the I-64 bridge, people wanting to cross West Virginia’s New River had to do so by ferry. During the years leading up to the Civil War, a gristmill owner named Samuel Richmond ferried customers back and forth from his mill. Richmond, a staunch Union man, didn’t hesitate to let people know where he stood on Southern secession. Tensions were high on September 12, 1863. Mrs. Richmond begged her husband not to go to work that day. But Samuel Richmond said he had a business to run. He walked the half-mile from his house to the river, got in his canoe, and ferried Mr. Allen Vincent across the river. While rowing back, Richmond was shot by two snipers. A bullet embedded in his lungs, Richmond rowed his canoe across the river and collapsed. He died soon after. Many suspected the ferryman was shot by two secession advocates, Henderson Garten and Jefferson Bennett. Park ranger Richard Altere says there’s “an extra kicker” to the story of the assassinated ferryman. Samuel Richmond’s son was a confederate soldier, and when he came home from fighting the Yankees, he avenged his Union-sympathizing father’s death by the hands of Rebel supporters. As the story goes, Richmond’s son not only shot Jefferson Bennett but killed his dog, too. Ranger Altere has worked at New River Gorge for over 17 years. He often eats lunch at the Sandstone Store, a small operation run by descendants of the Richmond clan. Not too long ago, some of Samuel Richmond’s people would still ferry you across the river for a nickel. Jimmy Costa, a local historian, wrote that people have seen a light come up out of the river where Samuel Richmond ran his ferry. The light moves in the water toward the Raleigh County side of the river, comes out of the water, and then travels up the shore toward the old Richmond homestead where it disappears. Hike: Sandstone Ferry via the New River

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Tappity-Tap-Tap hen I phoned Ramona McMillion, an 83-year-old native who lives near the Sandstone Ferry, to ask her about the ghost light, McMillion told me she’d never heard of it. But she did have a few New River stories for me, including one about a house haunted by a foot. Ramona McMillion lives on the Summers County side of the river. From her window she can see a small island that sits in the middle of the water near the mouth of Laurel Creek. Many believe this island is an ancient Indian burial ground. McMillion heard that a Richmond man buried all three of his wives out there. McMillion believes this is true because she visited the island once and saw three grave markers. Oddly, Mr. Richmond told people the reason he buried his wives on the island was to keep the witches from getting their bodies, since witches couldn’t cross water. Sometime before the turn of the twentieth century, after they laid the C&O railroad tracks alongside the river, a tap-dancing “hobo” fell off of the train and the train ran over him, cutting off his foot. A doctor, one of Samuel Richmond’s descendants, brought the foot to his cabin on the east side of the river, dropped it in a big glass jar of formaldehyde, and placed it on a shelf down in the basement. Many years later, an old bachelor moved into the doctor’s house. The bachelor was a grumpy old codger who didn’t like children playing about. One day, he told Ramona McMillion that when he got up at midnight to play the fiddle, he could hear the foot dancing down in the basement. From then on, to McMillion and her friends, the crumbling old place was “the ghost house.” Mrs. McMillion says a railroad tramp really did lose his foot on the tracks, but she suspects the part about the dancing foot may have been made up by the mean old bachelor. The log cabin was torn down in the 1870s to make room for the interstate, but the foot may still be buried somewhere along the riverbank. Around 1922, when she was only eight or nine, McMillion and a friend were gathering rocks to build a playhouse. They were pulling rocks out of the ground near the bachelor’s cabin when they dug up something strange—a jar with a foot in it. Still floating in its solution, the foot was “all white and everything”

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and well-preserved. Ramona ran home to show her mother the treasure she had found. But when her mom saw the foot floating in the jar, she screamed something to the effect of, “Young lady, you go right back and bury that thing where you found it!”

A Sinister Sign n September 6, 1901, immigrant laborers were dynamite blasting the cliffs along the river gorge to make room for the railroad. That day, one of the explosions created a profile of a man’s face in the rock. The stony image bore an uncanny resemblance to the current president of the United States, William McKinley. I imagine the Italian laborers crossed themselves at the sight, immediately sensing it as a bad omen. That same day, at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York, one of our country’s most beloved presidents, William McKinley, was shaking hands in a “greeter line.” McKinley’s secretary had advised him not to go to this event. The president had been receiving several death threats lately, and it wasn’t safe. Besides, the secretary told the president, it would be impossible for him to shake hands with all the people who had come there to meet him. But the popular, people-loving president told his worried secretary, “Well, they’ll know I tried, anyhow.” At the expo, McKinley shook many hands, including the one belonging to Leon Czolgosz, a 28-year-old anarchist with a diseased mind and a .32 Johnson revolver. Czolgosz fired two shots at the president. McKinley hit the floor and the blood gushed from his white shirt and vest while a pack of security men pummeled the assassin. The president survived his wounds long enough to be taken to a hospital. Eight days after his face appeared in the rock at New River Gorge, president McKinley was dead. His assassin was executed six weeks later, on October 29th. From then on, the profile-in-stone of a man’s face has been called McKinley’s Rock. Hike: Thurmond/Minden Trail

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President William McKinley was assassinated the same day this likeness of him appeared in the rocks.

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New River Gorge Sandstone Ferry

THE HIKES Sandstone Ferry via the New River MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

4.5 (one-way) Moderate (Class I to II) Kayak Sandstone Falls (River Mile 10) is a Class VI monster that the park rangers call “one of the most dangerous places in the park.” So launch your canoes or boats downstream from the Sandstone Falls area, on the east side of the river near the Sandstone Store. Novices to Class II water should visit the park website

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New River Gorge Thurmond/Minden Trail

DESCRIPTION:

for a list of whitewater outfitters that can guide them down the river. The old Sandstone Ferry site is approximately 0.6 mile down river from Sandstone Falls, where Laurel Creek empties into New River. From the launch, you can do a short out-and-back paddle, maybe even fish a little, or float downstream (five miles, one-way) to Meadow Creek. The island where the Richmond wives may be buried is north of the ferry site. You’ll be following alongside the railroad line where the tap dancer lost his foot. The “old ghost house” was on the right side of the river, somewhere under the shadow of the interstate.

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Thurmond/Minden Trail MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

6.8 Easy Bicycle To reach the Thurmond Trailhead, take W.V. Route 25 east from the NPS headquarters at Glen Jean. About 5.1 miles from Glen Jean, you’ll see the trailhead parking on the left. At the end of W.V. Route 25 is the Thurmond Historic District. Check out the restored train depot before or after your hike. This popular hiking and biking path follows a branch of the historic C&O Railway. Overlooks with scenic views of the New River and five railroad trestle crossings keep the scenery interesting on this smooth trail. To find McKinley Rock, walk toward Minden on the Thurmond/Minden Trail. As the trail bends to the left and starts to parallel the river, you will pass an old white mile marker on your right. (This is near the start of the hike leaving from Thurmond.) Shortly afterwards, look for the little seats on your left. The first trestle bridge will now come into view right after the little seats. Move to the right side of the trail and look up and ahead to your left. You’ll probably see the nose first and then the rest of McKinley’s profile will come into view.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Winter is best if you want to photograph McKinley Rock. Summer growth makes McKinley’s profile difficult to find.

Contact NEW RIVER GORGE NATIONAL RIVER: 304-465-0508; www.nps.gov/neri

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HARPERS FERRY The Stains of Violence ohn Brown’s fervor was for a worthy cause—to end slavery—but his strategies were foolish and suicidal. The first man Brown’s raiders killed when they assaulted Harpers Ferry for the purpose of freeing blacks was Heywood Shepard, a freed black man. Within 36 hours of initiating the revolt, most of John Brown’s men, including two of his own sons, were dead. At the time of the raid, John Brown was 59 years old. Writer Joseph Barry, who was there during the raid of 1859, described the abolitionist as being five feet eleven inches tall, “large boned and muscu-

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Abolitionist John Brown may still be stalking the streets of Harpers Ferry.

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lar,” with fiery hazel eyes and a long white beard which “hung in snowy waves to his breast.” After the ill-fated raid, John Brown was captured, tried for treason, and hanged. They say he approached the gallows with unflinching courage and stoic indifference. Among the raiders John Brown inspired to violence was Dangerfield Newby, an emancipated black who was frustrated and desperate because he couldn’t buy his wife and seven children out of slavery. One of the first raiders to die, Newby was either shot or stabbed in the neck with a metal spike. The next day, the people of Harpers Ferry vented their fear and anger on Newby’s body. They mutilated it, dragged it down the street to “Hog Alley,” and left it to the pigs. The violence stirred by John Brown’s raid seems to have put a jinx on Harpers Ferry. The Civil War broke out two years later, and the town remained in the crosshairs of the bloody conflict. Before it was over, the city had been captured 23 times by two armies. Hundreds of people suffered and bled onto the roads of Harpers Ferry. Along with the soldiers, many innocent civilians, including women and children, were killed. After the war, disease, disaster, and death plagued the town. In 1870, one flood took 42 lives. Tragic accidents and deadly infections killed many more. By the time Congress passed an act designating the spot as a historic site in 1944, Harpers Ferry resembled a national ruin more than it did a national park. Today, Harpers Ferry draws thousands of history buffs, antique hunters, cyclists, photographers, and hikers each year. The father of all long-distance treks, the Appalachian Trail, runs right through town, and one of the best cycling routes in the country, the 184-mile-long C & O Canal, follows alongside the Potomac River. If only half of the stories you find in books and read on the Internet have real eyewitnesses, the entire town is haunted. A mortally wounded soldier whispers, “Thank God, I’m saved,” to people entering the threshold of the St. Peters Catholic Church. The ghost of a little boy cries from inside a bedroom closet in one of the town’s historic homes. A phantom Army marches down High Street. Unexplained fires burn on Maryland Heights and Camp Hill where Civil War soldiers cooked dinner over their campfires, and Revolutionary War soldiers haunt Bolivar Heights. The most famous ghost at Harpers Ferry is John Brown him-

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self. Some say he paces the floor of the Kennedy Farmhouse (five miles outside of town) where he and his men slept during the months leading up to the raid. In 1974, a bearded old man dressed in shabby clothes wandered the streets. The old man was pleasant, often nodding to tourists, and he so resembled the fiery abolitionist that park personnel jokingly called him “John B.” One day, a family from Alabama asked the John Brown look-alike to pose with them for a few photos, and “John B.” obliged them. The family was looking forward to showing the folks at home how John Brown himself had given them a tour of Harpers Ferry. But when they had the photographs developed, they were shocked to see that John B. didn’t appear in any of their photos. Hike: Overlook Cliffs

Must Keep the Ghosts Out ichael Norman and Beth Scott’s book, Historic Haunted America, tells the story of two park service planners from Denver who were sharing a room in a historic building that the park service used as a dorm for visiting employees. In the middle of the night, one man woke up to a very disturbing scene. His roommate, a sober and industrious government employee, was standing by the wall, pushing against it with

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Jefferson’s Rock. “The rugged steeps their silent vigil keep where loving hearts oft take the ‘fatal leap’,” says the caption from this historic postcard.

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all his might, as if a pack of demon hounds were growling and scratching on the other side. “For God’s sake!” the first planner said. “What are you doing?” “Have to . . . have to . . . keep the ghosts out!” the second planner said, pushing against the wall as if his life depended on it. Alarmed, the first planner got out of bed, grabbed his coworker by the arm and pulled him off the wall. The second planner broke free from his friend’s grasp and ran down the hallway all the way to the rear of the building. The next morning, the planner asked his roommate to explain his bizarre behavior. The roommate told him the only thing he could remember from that night was that he had seen a woman wearing an old-fashioned traveling outfit of heavy cloth standing by the stairway and holding a child by the hand. It looked as if they were waiting for a stagecoach to pick them up, but when he approached them the woman and her child faded from sight. Two nights later, the same roommate woke up in the middle of the night and entered the hallway to go to the restroom. On the way, he ran into a well-dressed man wearing a brocade vest and a top hat. The man in the top hat glared at the government planner and then vanished. As much as I’d like to dismiss all this as one person’s sleepwalking nightmares, I can’t. Because, unbeknownst to the government planner, several years earlier, another government employee spending the night in the same house saw a ghost of a woman with a child. And then a few nights later, she was pushed by an apparition of a glaring man wearing a brocade vest. In the 1970s, a Revolutionary War researcher was lying on the couch in the front room one afternoon when he felt the unsettling sensation that someone was watching him. Just about then, a man wearing 19th-century clothing—a pair of baggy pants and a cap—walked down the hall past the researcher. Slung over his shoulder was the body of a man who appeared to be dead. The researcher watched the apparition carry the body down to the end of the hallway and disappear.

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Harpers Ferry Overlook Cliffs

THE HIKE Overlook Cliffs MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

4.1 Moderate After walking through town, pick up the Appalachian Trail at the end of Shenandoah Street and cross the railroad bridge over the Potomac River. On the other side of the river, turn left (north) and leave the A.T. for the C & O canal. In a quarter-mile, take the green-blazed Combined Trail on your right and enter the Maryland Heights section of the park. Stay with the green blazes until you see the red-blazed trail that brings you to the Overlook Cliffs and the best view of Harpers Ferry.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year.

Contact HARPERS FERRY NATIONAL HISTORIC PARK: 304-535-6223; www.nps.gov/hafe

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APPALACHIAN TRAIL–VERMONT Vermont Vanishings olklorists tell us that Native Americans feared Glastenbury Mountain, and believed the summit, where the four winds meet, was cursed. There are also ancient rumors of an enchanted rock in the forests on the slopes of this massive mountain. And if you step on this rock, you will disappear forever. At one time, a community of whites settled on the slopes of the mountain near Bennington, Vermont. They called their town Glastenbury. In 1892, a Glastenbury mill worker named Henry MacDowell murdered his coworker, Jim Crowley. Declared criminally insane, MacDowell was sentenced to life in an asylum. But he escaped on the way to the asylum and was never seen or heard from again. In his book, Passing Strange: True Tales of New England Hauntings and Horrors, writer John Citro suggests that MacDowell might have “returned to the wilds of Glastenbury,” where he grew an awesome head of dreadlocks, lived on raw moose steaks, and distinguished himself as the town boogeyman. The first person to vanish while venturing into the area now known as “the Bennington Triangle” was Middie Rivers, a hiker who disappeared on November 12, 1945, after taking a drink of water from Hell Hollow Brook. A year later, The A.T. enters the Bennington Triangle.

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on December 1, 1946, Paula Welden, a sophomore at Bennington College, hitched a ride to Woodford Hollow where she set off to hike the Long Trail/Appalachian Trail and never returned. Then, on the three-year anniversary of Paula Welden’s disappearance, James Tetford seemingly vanished into thin air while riding a bus bound for Bennington. On October 12, 1950, eightyear-old Paul Jepson, who had a “strange yen for the mounA creek on the A.T. near the cursed tains,” disappeared while his Glastenbury Mountain. mother was collecting firewood. (Blood hounds traced Jepson’s trail to a junction of two roads near the point where Paula Welden was last seen.) Two weeks later, on October 28, 1950, the, by now, experienced searchers were scouring the eastern slopes of Glastenbury for signs of Frieda Langer, a woman who had disappeared after becoming momentarily separated from her cousin and hiking partner. A Bennington reporter noted how odd it was that Langer, an accomplished woodswoman, could become so completely lost within such a short time, before it was dark, while hiking in an area with which she was “so thoroughly familiar.” Unlike the other victims of the Glastenbury black hole, searchers eventually found Langer’s body in the tall grasses near the flood dam of Somerset Reservoir, a location searchers had thoroughly checked seven months earlier. Due to the “gruesome condition” of Langer’s remains, no cause of death could be determined. Many dismiss superstitions about the “Bennington Triangle” as hogwash. But five unsolved disappearances, all occurring in one relatively small patch of Vermont, all during the months of October, November, and December, all within a five-year period, all near the base of one mountain, is very peculiar, to say the least. Hike: Glastenbury Mountain Loop

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The Bennington Monster ysterious disappearances inspire creative theories. Alien abduction, abandoned well shafts, predatory mountain lions, maneating bears, serial killers who die or leave the area the year the disappearances stop. Among the usual Glastenbury suspects there is one whose fingerprints are not on file—the Bennington Monster. He attacked a carriage sometime during the nineteenth century, and on October 18, 1879, the New York Times reported that two hunters had shot and wounded him in the Green Mountains. The young hunters said they were in an area about 10 miles south of Bennington when a “wild man” covered with bright red hair and a long, straggling beard sprang out from behind a rocky cliff and ran for the woods. Mistaking it for a bear, one of the men fired and apparently wounded the beast, for it let out a piercing cry of pain and rage and turned toward its would-be assassins. The hunters ran for their lives, dropping their rifles as they made their escape, but the men “dared not return for their guns for fear of encountering the strange being.” After he was shot in 1879, the Bennington Monster continued to grab the attention of the media from time to time. He usually makes his appearance during the fall and early winter. His most recent showing was in September 2003, when four people saw him. The first was Ray Dufrense who told reporters he had seen a six-foot “big, black thing” with hair “from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet” walking into the woods east of Glastenbury Mountain. In a Bennington Banner article titled “Vermont Man Spots Bigfoot,” Dufresne said he first thought the creature was a man in a gorilla suit, but then he realized there were no abandoned cars nearby, so he “put two and two together.” The second to see the monster was Doug Dorst. “I almost wish I’d been paying more attention, so I could’ve appreciated the absurdity and the fear of it,” Dorst, a visitor from San Francisco said. “I think it was a dude in a suit out there. I celebrate it.” Like Dorst, Ann Mrowicki and her friend believed the hairy creature with a tail they saw crossing Route 7 and heading into the Glastenbury wilderness was “a strange big person in a costume.” Officials with the Fish and Wildlife Department concluded that witnesses had seen a bear, not Bigfoot, but some locals suspected the

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monster was Michael Green, a Bennington resident with a reputation as a practical joker. Greene, who has “kin” in the Glastenbury area, admitted to playing jokes on people in the past, but vehemently denied that he had ever impersonated the Bennington Monster. Greene did have an alibi: he was playing golf with friends during the time the monster was seen, and he had never owned a gorilla costume. “I’ll take a lie detector test,” Greene told reporters.

THE HIKE Glastenbury Mountain Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

21.8 Strenuous On VT 9, five miles east of downtown Bennington. From the trailhead parking area, a spur trail takes you to the A.T. (also the Long Trail) and heads north. In 3.2 miles you’ll cross a bridge over Hell Hollow Brook, the last water source until you reach the piped spring at Goddard Shelter. Two shelters, the first at mile 1.6 and the second, Goddard, at mile 10.1, give you two foul weather options for camping. You reach the summit of Little Pond Mountain in 5.5 miles. From here, the trail climbs the ridgeline, descends, and then climbs steadily to Goddard Shelter. The summit is 0.3 mile beyond the shelter. By the time you reach Glastenbury Mountain (3,748 feet high) you will have climbed over 2,000 feet in elevation. Return to the Goddard Shelter and head west onto the blue-blazed West Ridge Trail. After reaching the summit of Bald Mountain, the West Ridge Trail meets the Bald Mountain Trail 7.8 miles from Goddard Shelter. Turn left (southeast) here, and after some switchbacks you’ll come to a spur trail to Bear Wallow Spring (a seasonal water source). When you reach a primitive road (Woodford Hollow Road),

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Appalachian Trail Glastenbury Mountain Loop

head south on it and in 1.8 miles you’ll come to Route 9. Turn left (southeast) here and in 0.8 mile you’ll reach your starting point.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

May thru October.

Contacts APPALACHIAN TRAIL CONFERENCE: 304-535-6331; www.appalachiantrail.org APPALACHIAN NATIONAL SCENIC TRAIL, NPS: 304-535-628; www.nps.gov/appa GREEN MOUNTAIN NATIONAL FOREST, USFS: 802-747-6700; www.fs.fed.us/rg/gmfl/green-mountain

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MAMMOTH CAVE Cough, Hack, Cough hen Dr. John Croghan bought Mammoth Cave in 1839, a black man named Stephan Bishop came with the price. Among the slaves who guided the first tourists through the world’s largest cave, Bishop was the most famous. He discovered many of the cave’s features—more than 20 miles of passages, and the blind, albino fish swimming in the underground Echo River. Bishop’s athletic abilities and calm demeanor were legendary. And he could converse about the various formations in the cave as well as any professor. But while Bishop guided the tourists, his master, Dr. Croghan, came up with bizarre ideas. Such as turning the cave into a hospital. One can hardly imagine a more dank and gloomy place in which to recuperate from a deadly disease, yet Dr. Croghan believed the cave’s constant 54-degree temperatures could cure consumption, an ill-

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A tight crawl in a wild section of the cave.

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ness we now call tuberculosis. The doctor had 11 huts built inside the cavern, and in 1853, 15 patients moved in. Of course, the “consumptive colony” was a dismal failure. Two patients died within the first year, all 15 got worse, and Dr. Croghan himself died from tuberculosis in 1859. A few of the “consumptive cabins” still exist and can be seen while touring the cave. In front of one of the cabins is a slab of stone upon which the bodies of the dead tuberculosis patients were Nicholas Bransford, a Mammoth Caves guide, placed before they were in typical dress. removed from the cave. They call it Corpse Rock. Some say, if you listen long enough, you can hear coughing in this section of the cave. Hike: Violet City Lantern Tour

Ghostly Guides tephan Bishop died in 1856, less than a year after gaining his freedom. Along with several other slave-guides, he is buried in the Old Guide Cemetery not far from the labyrinths he so loved in life. Today, park rangers guide visitors through Mammoth Cave’s maze of passageways, and some of them suspect Bishop and the other slave-guides return to the cave from time to time, perhaps to check up on how the new guides are doing their jobs. While on the Violet City Tour of the cave, park rangers give visitors an idea of what it was like to visit the cave before there were light bulbs and flashlights. One ranger turns off the electric lights while the other ranger speaks to the tour group by the light of an oil lantern.

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Many guides have experienced strange things during these “blackouts.” They have been shoved playfully by an unseen force. They have heard footsteps and turned to see no one there. They have been grabbed or touched in the darkness when there were no other people nearby. During one blackout, guide Larry Pursell noticed a black family standing behind the rest of the group. Pursell was a bit surprised to see them, since he hadn’t noticed Stephan Bishop, Mammoth Cave’s first guide, any black tourists in this tour may be coming back to see how the new guides are doing. group. The father wore a white Panama hat and watched the other ranger talk with rapt attention. When Pursell turned the electric lights back, he looked for the black family, but he couldn’t find a single black person on the tour. The room where the ranger saw the mysterious black family is called the Methodist Church because miners once held religious services there. During those days, if a black guide and his family attended those services, it was customary for them to stand back a distance from the whites in the group. On another occasion, two park guides were taking a group through the Chief City room when a woman said, “Who is that up there among the rocks?” The guides looked where the woman was pointing and saw a man holding a lantern standing on a formation called Sacrifice Rock. The man wore a long-sleeved shirt and an old droopstyle hat, like those worn by slave guides. Though the man could be seen from three different angles, the park guides decided the image must have been created by a series of shadows. Mammoth Cave’s apparitions make occasional excursions into the world of light. One afternoon, two park employees were hiking the Heritage Trail near the footbridge behind the hotel, when they were

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startled to see a pair of legs with no body attached walking down the grassy bank. Though the disembodied legs were seen at mid-afternoon, the employee blamed her uncanny vision on the shadows. Hike: The Heritage Trail

Reach Out and Scare Someone f anyone loved the world’s largest cavern more than Stephan Bishop, that man was Floyd Collins, a poor Kentucky white who lived near Mammoth Cave during the years leading up to the Great Depression. Collins hoped to improve his financial situation by finding a passageway between the Crystal and Sand Caves, two caverns in the Mammoth Cave system, and selling guided tours. On January 30, 1925, Collins was exploring a narrow passageway in Sand Cave when he became trapped by a 27-pound rock. The tragedy of Floyd Collins is well told in the book, Trapped!, by Robert Murray and Roger Brucker. Alone in the cave, his arms pinned, the intrepid cave explorer told the first rescuers, “I can live here two weeks if someone will just feed me.” But by the sixth day of the failing rescue effort, poor Floyd broke down into sobs. “Get me out, Johnnie, ol’ pal,” he cried out to his friend, Johnnie Gerald. During the days that followed, rescuers, media people, and curious spectators crowded the entrance to Sand Cave. Reporters were earning their Pulitzers, rescue organizers were arguing over what to try next, and spectators were partying while Floyd lay trapped in the cold darkness, crying and begging for someone to crawl down into the cave and keep him company. On the seventh day of Floyd’s entrapment, a rescuer called down the shaft, “Don’t give up. We’re coming.” Floyd’s reply and last words were, “You’re too slow . . . too slow.” A group of miners started digging a shaft hoping to reach Floyd from another angle. On Friday the 13th, a miner claimed he heard a gasp rising from the cavern. But by the time rescuers reached him, Floyd Collins had already died, lying in his own filth, a cold trickle of water torturing his face. The indignities suffered by Floyd Collins did not end with his ungodly death. Instead of receiving a decent burial, his body became a

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tourist attraction. For 64 years, Floyd was displayed in a glass-topped coffin inside Crystal Cave. One night, a group of midnight raiders made off with Floyd’s corpse. The identity of the grave robbers remains unknown, but the body, minus one leg, was found wrapped in a gunny sack lying in the bushes near the Green River. Floyd’s body remained on display in Crystal Cave until the National Park Service obtained the cavern and closed it to the public. In 1989, the ill-fated caver was laid to rest in a more civil location, the cemetery on Flint Ridge. His leg is still missing. The catacombs of Crystal Cave are a hotbed for paranormal activity. Experienced cavers and park service employees have seen and heard many strange things inside Crystal Cave—footsteps near Floyd’s coffin, a voice crying, “Help me, Johnnie. I’m trapped,” tapping noises coming from one of Floyd’s camps where he used to flatten bean cans with a rock. A female caver credits Floyd’s ghost with saving her from death or serious injury when an unseen force pushed her back from falling off a cliff. In 1987, a group of rangers watched an old whiskey bottle move out from a hole in the wall, hover for a moment, and drop down in front of them on its own accord. (Floyd begged for whiskey to be brought to him while he was still alive in the cave, but an overzealous sheriff denied the dying man his liquor.) But of all the happenings in Crystal Cave, the most chilling story involves a telephone. On July 22, 1961, two scientists conducting research inside Crystal Cave heard a ringing sound coming from the darkness of the cave. The men ran toward the sound until they came to the room known as the Grand Canyon. Some say caver Floyd Collins haunts At that time, Floyd’s coffin was Mammoth Cave after he died while trapped.

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still there, as well as an old telephone that guides once used to communicate with ticket sellers outside the cave. Researcher Will White picked up the phone and put the receiver to his ear. White could hear a background conversation, as if someone had set down the receiver while the other people in the room were talking. Then he heard someone pick up the receiver. “Hello,” White said, “is someRangers give guided tours of Mammoth Cave. one trying to call Crystal Cave?” The researcher heard someone gasp, as if the person were shocked to hear someone on the line, and then the line went dead. On their way out of the cave, the researchers traced the phone wires back to the entrance and up a hill to an old ticket office. At the ticket office, they found the end of the phone line. The wires weren’t connected to anything. With more than 150 documented paranormal events, many of them experienced by credible witnesses such as rangers and scientists, Mammoth Cave has a reputation for being one of the most haunted places in the world. Park rangers Colleen O’Connor Olson and Charles Hanion have recorded many of these stories in their book, Scary Stories of Mammoth Cave, a must-read for anybody intrigued by the incidents I’ve included here. Hike: Sand and Crystal Caves

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THE HIKES Violet City Lantern Tour MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

Mammoth Cave Heritage Trail

3 Moderate Buy tickets at the Mammoth Cave Entrance. Fork up the 12 bucks and take this guided tour of the cave. On the Violet City Lantern Tour, instead of flashlights, you’ll carry kerosene lamps to illuminate the cave’s steep paths, just as tourists did 150 years ago. Many of the cave’s spookiest spots are on this route, including Giant’s Coffin, Mummy Ledge (where the Lost John mummy was found in 1935 and near where he is buried today), the Tuberculosis Huts, and the mysterious petroglyphs on a slab of rock called Devil’s Looking Glass. To take this tour you must be able to climb a total of 160 steps.

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Mammoth Cave National Park Sand and Crystal Caves, Stephan Bishop Gravesite, Floyd Collins Gravesite

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The Heritage Trail MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.6 Easy Handicapped The footbridge in front of the Mammoth Cave Hotel. This wheelchair accessible path is lined with benches and lights. At the Old Guides Cemetery you can see where the tuberculosis patients and Stephan Bishop are buried. For a longer hike, continue down to River Styx Spring.

Sand and Crystal Caves MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEADS:

DESCRIPTION:

0.2 and 1.5 Easy The trailhead for Sand Cave is just after you enter the park, on the East Entrance Road (Highway 255). To see Floyd’s grave, take Flint Ridge Road to the church two miles northeast of the Visitor Center. Floyd’s grave is in front, close to the church. Back on Flint Ridge Road, drive another mile from the cemetery to the parking area for the hike to Crystal Cave. Sand and Crystal caves have been closed to visitors, which sounds like a wise idea, but you can still hike to the entrances. A short woodland path leads you to Sand Cave, the site of the Floyd Collins 1925 entrapment. Crystal Cave is at the end of a gated dirt road.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. No cave tours on Christmas Day.

Contacts MAMMOTH CAVE NATIONAL PARK: 5270-758-2178; www.nps.gov/maca FLOYD COLLINS MUSEUM: The Wayfarer, 1240 Old Mammoth Cave Road

NORTHEAST AND MID ATLANTIC

Into the woods.

CAPE HATTERAS The White Doe rotected from the Atlantic Ocean by a chain of islands known as the Outer Banks, Roanoke Island was a good choice for settlement. The soil was fertile. The seafood plentiful. The natives appeared to be gentle and loving. During the summer of 1587, over 100 men, women, and children sailed across the Atlantic to make the first English attempt at colonizing the New World. They landed on Roanoke Island and shortly thereafter, Eleonor and Ananias Dare gave birth to a baby girl. The blue-eyed girl was viewed as a good omen by the colonists. She was the granddaughter of John White, the colonists’ governor. Her parents named her Virginia, after the new colony. A few months later, Governor White sailed back to England for desperately needed supplies. The remaining colonists had agreed to leave a sign, a Maltese Cross, carved into a tree if they were forced to move while White and his men were gone. When White returned almost three years later, he found an abandoned settlement, no signs of life, and no cross. Over 115 people had vanished, and the only clue they left behind was one cryptic word carved into a tree—“Croatoan.” The fate of the “Lost Colony” has intrigued historians for more than 400 years. Did “Croatoan” mean they moved inland and married into Native American tribes? Or were they killed by hostile Indians? Or did they die in a scuffle with Spanish troops exploring up the coast from Florida? And if they were killed, where were their bodies? If you believe that where there’s smoke there’s fire, if you believe that legends, like dreams, have a way of solving our mysteries for us, but only through riddle and metaphor, then an unfriendly group of Indians attacked and killed the colony. But maybe some of the colonists were rescued by Chief Manteo, the leader of a friendly tribe. Chief Manteo absorbed the surviving English into his tribe. And this

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explains why Indians from this area knew how to read books and build two-story homes. Among the rescued colonists was the blue-eyed girl, Virginia Dare. She grew up to be a young woman, but before she was married, she was killed in a scuffle between rival suitors. They say a spectral white deer lives in the forests on Roanoke Island. No weapon can harm and no human hand can touch this doe. The deer wanders the shoreline, often pausing to gaze out into the Roanoke Sound, as if she is waiting for someone or something. Indian legends say this white doe is the spirit of Virginia Dare. Hike: Thomas Hariot Nature Trail

The Eternal Beachcomber conspiracy of wind and water builds ever-shifting sandbars off the shores of Cape Hatteras. These treacherous shoals have wrecked many ships, claiming the lives of many men. In 1813, Theodosia Burr Alston, the wife of the Governor of South Carolina, boarded the ship Patriot, which was sailing north to New York, where Theodosia planned to visit her father, the former Vice President Aaron Burr. The ship ran into trouble offshore of Hatteras Island and the Patriot was never seen again. Theodosia, along with the rest of the passengers and crew aboard the ship, was also never seen again. Or was she? Some say Theodosia survived, that she was cast ashore with nothing but the clothes on her back and a portrait of herself, that whatever stole the lives of the crew and passengers aboard the Patriot had also robbed Theodosia of her sanity. An Outer Banks fisherman and his wife cared for this strange, incoherent woman for many years. In 1869, the woman became gravely ill. A doctor was called in from Elizabeth City. To pay the doctor, the fisherman’s wife told him to pick out something from the room. The doctor pointed to a painting on the wall, a portrait of a vivacious young woman, and said “I’ll have that.” “It is mine!” The sick old woman sat up in her bed. “You shall not have it. I am on my way to see my father in New York, and I am taking him this picture of his darling Theodosia!” With that, the sick woman snatched the painting off the wall, ran out the door, out to the

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beach, and into the surf. The deranged old woman was never seen again, but the next day, the portrait came in with the tide. Since then, people have told stories of seeing Theodosia’s ghost walking up and down Cape Hatteras beaches on foggy days, searching for her portrait. Historians have doubts about the accuracy of the “insane old woman story.” However, an Elizabeth City doctor did take possession of a mysterious portrait of a unidentified young woman he found while visiting Nag’s Head hut in 1869. The woman in the “Nag’s Head portrait” does resemble Theodosia Burr. The painting resides in a Yale University library.

Shiver Me Timbers is real name was Edward Teach, but people called him Blackbeard. He was tall. He wore a coat full of daggers. He had those crazy eyes. He burned coal from his hat, tied human bones into his black beard (which he wore down to his waist), and he killed people just for the fun of it. But some women go for that kind of thing.

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Springer’s Point.

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Legless man haunts this graveyard at Springer’s Point.

Despite his savagery in battle, when it came to women, Edward Teach was a lover not a fighter. By many accounts, Teach handled the fairer sex gently, fell in love easily, and may have had as many as 14 wives—the last being a 16-year-old lass half his age. The British Royal Navy was less taken with him. Determined to foil Blackbeard’s evil plan to invade Ocracoke Island and turn it into a party crib for pirates, the Brits sent two warships to the treacherous waters of Ocracoke Inlet to take Blackbeard’s ship, Adventure, and its captain, dead or alive. On November 22, 1718, the British attacked. At one point in the battle, the pirates fired all of their cannons upon the British ship, Ranger. All went quiet on the Ranger, and it seemed that Blackbeard and his men had gained the upper hand. But the wily British had fooled the overconfident pirates. When Blackbeard and his men boarded Ranger, the British Navy poured out of the holds and onto the deck where they met the pirates with a fierce round of hand-to-hand combat. One seaman speared Blackbeard in the throat. Blood poured from the wound, the pirate died, and his men fled. To celebrate their victory, the Royal Navy chopped off Teach’s head and hung it from the bowsprit. They dumped the rest of the body overboard into the cove we


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now call “Teach’s Hole.” They said Blackbeard’s corpse swam three laps around the British ship before sinking. Legends tell of fishermen who have seen Blackbeard’s body swimming around Teach’s Hole on moonlit nights. The pirate’s corpse is headless, of course, and it glows with a luminescence. Others claim to have seen unexplained lights out on the water or moving through the trees above Teach’s Hole at Springer’s Point. A man named Sam Jones lived out on Springer’s Point until he died in 1977. Jones is buried there under a stone marker and next to his favorite horse. Ocracoke resident Phillip Howard wrote the story of Roy Parsons, a fisherman who made the mistake of visiting Springer’s Point during the misty hours before dawn. After beaching his boat on shore, Parsons walked through the woods to the graveyard where Sam Jones was buried. The fisherman encountered a strange man standing near Sam’s headstone. The man wore a white shirt, had slicked back hair, and “there weren’t nothing to him below the waist!” Seriously spooked by the legless man, Parsons ran down to the water, jumped into his skiff, and rowed his boat out into the channel. He looked back toward shore just in time to see the apparition move out into the water and vanish “like smoke.” Hike: Springer’s Point The trail to Blackbeard’s Springer’s Point.

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Cape Hatteras Thomas Hariot Nature Trail

THE HIKES Thomas Hariot Nature Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.25 Easy Behind the visitor center at Fort Raleigh National Historic site in Manteo. The Thomas Hariot Trail travels under oaks dripping with Spanish moss as it heads toward the shores of Roanoke Sound, where the blue-eyed doe waits for her grandfather, Governor White, to return as he had promised. But don’t freak out if you encounter a man


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Cape Hatteras National Seashore

speaking with an English accent and dressed in Elizabethan-style clothing. Sometimes rangers roam the grounds wearing period clothing and acting in the character of the lost colonists. One of the colonists depicted is Thomas Hariot, a man of science. Near the end of this trail, archeologists have found artifacts left by the colonists, including the remains of Hariot’s laboratory.

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Cape Hatteras Springer’s Point

Springer’s Point MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

1 Easy From the park service lighthouse on Ocracoke Island, continue down Lighthouse Road to the Springer’s Point sign. Springer’s Point is protected by the North Carolina Land Trust. From the sign, a dirt road closed to vehicles leads east. Walk to the end of the road and check out the panoramic view of Teach’s Hole. At this point, turn right onto a path and enter a natural tunnel through the live oaks. Continue walking until you see the small graveyard near a spooky old brick cistern. You should find Sam Jones’s grave here.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Summers are warm but more crowded. Late fall and winter may be appropriately stormy but the fishing and bird watching will be fantastic.

Contact CAPE HATTERAS NATIONAL PARK: 252-473-2111; www.nps.gov/caha


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NEW JERSEY PINELANDS The Jersey Devil Is a Hoax? n 1735, near Leeds Point, New Jersey, a poor woman living in a sad little cabin gave birth to her thirteenth child. After bearing 12 children, Mrs. Leeds cursed, “May the devil take this one,” during the worst of her contractions. Unfortunately, the devil took her statement literally. Mrs. Leeds gave birth to a mutated baby with a long forked tail, a horse’s head, and cloven hooves. Not long after it was born, the devil baby squinted its yellow eyes at its mama, flapped its bat-like wings, and then flew up the chimney, letting out an ear-piercing screech as it disappeared into the swampy forests of southern New Jersey.

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Jersey Devil “hysteria” forced officials to post these signs during the Gibbsboro Invasion of 1951.

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That’s the legend. Here are a few of the facts. In 1800, naval hero Commodore Stephen Decatur shot an unidentified flying creature with a cannonball in front of several witnesses. Although the cannon hit its mark, the strange flying beast kept on flying as if the cannonball that pierced its wing caused only a mere flesh wound. Several years later, Napoleon’s brother, Joseph Bonaparte, saw a similar animal while hunting game in the Pine Barrens. In 1909, so many people were seeing the Jersey Devil, hearing its screams, or finding its footprints, that the Philadelphia Zoo offered a $10,000 reward for its capture. In 1951, several residents of Gibbsboro, New Jersey saw and heard the devil. Within 48 hours, mass hysteria erupted, forcing policemen to post flyers onto trees that said “the Jersey Devil is a hoax.” In 1957, a charred carcass of a creature with claws, feathers, and kangaroo-like legs was found in the woods. An official with the Department of Conservation was unable to identify the species. In 1966, several ducks, cats, and dogs were found mangled, including a 90-pound German Shepard. The dog’s throat had been ripped open, and its body dragged a quarter-mile from its chain. The maimed animals were all found near the Mullica River, not far from where a state trooper saw an unidentified animal that left behind strange footprints.

Devilhunters.com any campers, hunters, and hikers have reported hearing and seeing the Jersey Devil while exploring the forests in and around the New Jersey Pinelands National Reserve, an International Biosphere Preserve. One man reported to a Jersey Devil website that he was hiking the Batona Trail between Apple Pie Hill and the Carranza Memorial at twilight, when he heard branches breaking. He called out, thinking the noise might be a lost hiker, but the only response he got was a bloodcurdling scream. “That was enough for me,” the hiker says in his report. He took off running, falling five times while the thing chased him all the way back to his car. The beast panted heavy breaths, like a bull, as it followed him. Then just as he jumped in the car and slammed the door shut, the frustrated monster let out a piercing shriek. The hiker turned the key in the ignition, roared the engine, and got the heck out of there.

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But then there are other hikers who are just dying to meet a monster face to face. Hikers who arm themselves with flashlights, video cameras, night vision goggles, evidence collection bottles, a machete, and a first aid kit before they venture deep into the Pine Barrens, often late at night, searching for a beast with a demon’s eyes and six-inch claws. These people call their excursions “Devil Hunts,” and they are led by a petite young blonde named Laura Leuter. Leuter, a New Jersey native, is the president and founding member of the New Jersey Devil Hunters. A “huge” fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Leuter has investigated the Jersey Devil phenomenon for nearly her entire life. She plays the drums in a band called “Adam’s Ghost,” works in a financial office, and doesn’t believe an entire state could be thrown into mass hysteria over nothing. “There is something out there,” she says. On her website, Leuter lists a wide range of theories postulated as reasons for Jersey Devil sightings. The devil could be a pterodactyl that has refused to become extinct. It could be a sandhill crane mistaken for a monster, a crossbreed hybrid of more than one species, or a supernatural being that is the spawn of the devil. Like most devil hunters, Leuter subscribes to the “highly intelligent undiscovered

Laura Leuter and her fellow devil hunters enter the Pine Barrens in search of the Jersey Devil.

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New Jersey Pinelands Batona Trail

biological entity” theory. And, until someone convinces her otherwise, she will continue to scour the Pine Barrens to prove that the Jersey Devil does in fact exist. The devil hunters’ crusade has brought them much more than their allotted 15 minutes of fame. Leuter and her partners get so many requests for media interviews they have to turn some down, and they have appeared on seven television shows, including three on “fairly big networks.” One of the down sides to being a devil hunter is that you have to endure “some teasing at the office,” but Leuter says most of her fans are “incredibly supportive of what we do.” Hike: Batona Trail

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THE HIKE Batona Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

49.5 Easy to Moderate Northern end: Ong’s Hat parking area, north of Highway 70. Southern end: Coal Road parking area is in the Bass River State Forest, at Stage Road. This trail meanders through cranberry bogs and never climbs higher than 200 feet above sea level as it traverses the heart of the Pine Barrens, venturing deep into Jersey Devil territory. The pink blazes are easy to follow from Ong’s Hat in Lebanon State Forest, through the village of Batso in the Wharton State Forest, to Coal Road in Bass River State Forest. One backpacker describes the Batona as “the flattest 50 miles I’ve ever hiked.”

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Winters can be cold, but during the warmer months, you have to be on the lookout for deer ticks carrying Lyme’s disease.

Contacts NEW JERSEY PINELANDS NATIONAL RESERVE: 609-292-2797; www.nps.gov/pine For a free map of the Batona Trail contact the Wharton State Forest: 609-561-0024; www.state.nj.us/dep/parkandforests/parks/wharton.html NEW JERSEY DEVIL HUNTERS: www.njdevilhunters.com

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INDIANA DUNES Skinny-Dipping Spirit lice Gray knew the luxuries of a privileged childhood, but she chose a hermit’s life. At the age of 34, Gray traveled to Indian Dunes and settled into an abandoned shack. She made furniture out of driftwood, sold wild berries for spending money, shot wild ducks for meat, and roamed the beaches wearing nothing but tan lines. Gray’s fondness for skinny-dipping upset some members of the local community. In July 1916, a fisherman’s wife wrote a complaint to the local paper because men were leaving their homes on moonlit nights and heading for the dunes to sneak a peek at the woman who bathed nude in the waters of Lake Michigan. One newspaperman dubbed Alice “Diana of the Dunes,” because her solitary, athletic ways reminded him of Diana, the aloof, virgin Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon. The five years Alice Gray lived in solitude on the banks of Lake Michigan put to shame the single year Henry David Thoreau camped out on Walden Pond. But, in 1920, a stranger came to town, changing Gray’s cloistered lifestyle forever. By most accounts, Paul Wilson was an uneducated, ill-bred, excon who, after reading about Alice in the papers, came to Indiana to woo the “wild nymph of the dunes.” Gray was a well-bred woman’s libber. Wilson was a brutish Neanderthal. But the early feminist fell in love with Wilson. He was her Heathcliff, a passionate, untamable, giant of a man with violent tendenThe sandy shores of Indiana Dunes.

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Atop the windswept Dunes.

cies and a mysterious past. The unlikely pairing made local citizens suspicious. Not long after the two moved to the “Wren’s Nest,” a shanty on the western end of Ogden Dunes, the misanthropic lovers were accused of stealing. Then, in June 1922, hikers found the remains of a half-cremated man in the dunes not far from the Wren’s Nest. The man appeared to have been clubbed or strangled and then burned in an attempt to hide the evidence. Immediately, Paul Wilson became suspect number one. Within hours of the body being discovered, a fight broke out between Wilson and a deputy sheriff. In the scuffle, Paul was shot in the foot and Alice was hit in the head with the butt of the deputy’s pistol. The injury put Alice in the hospital with a fractured skull. Wilson claimed the real killer was a gun-crazy hermit with a bad foot who had left behind an unusual footprint at the murder scene. The deformed hermit was never found. The body of the murder victim was never identified. The case was never solved, and Alice Gray never fully recovered from her head injury.

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Three years later, on February 11, 1925, Gray died of uremic poisoning. Some accused Paul Wilson with abusing Alice and concluded that her death was the result of a punch to the stomach. Others believed Gray found true love with her hot-tempered man, who collapsed at her funeral service, hugging her gasket and sobbing, before drawing his pistol and threatening to kill himself in front of the crowd— after he took a couple of disrespectful newspaper reporters with him. Restrained by bystanders before he carried out his threats, the forlorn Wilson was in his jail cell howling like a caged hound when they dropped the dirt on his lover’s coffin. Many have written that Alice Gray’s nude ghost has been seen emerging from the waters of Lake Michigan or walking the sandy shores of Indiana Dunes. One author claims a park ranger saw her in 1972. The rangers I interviewed had never heard that one, but then 1972 was a long time ago. Still, I was unable to find a named eyewitness to the ghost of Alice Gray. And this makes me leery. Perhaps the stories were told to entice tourists to the once yearly but now defunct “Diana of the Dunes Festival.” Perhaps, in death as in life, Alice Gray prefers her solitude. And while local communities were using her myth to draw in tourist dollars, the real Diana of the Dunes remained hidden under a lonely, unmarked grave. Hike: West Beach Loops

THE HIKES West Beach Loops MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

0.9, 1.4, and 1.6 Easy All three trails—West Beach, Long Lake, and Dune Succession—start from the parking lot near the beaches on the West Beach Access Road. The park service brochure says the West Beach trails


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Indiana Dunes West Beach Loops

will take you on “a journey into the past,” as you will wander through the same dunes, mature oak forests, and marshes that Alice Gray loved. East of the Dune Succession Loop is Ogden Dunes, where Alice Gray died inside her shanty just a few years before the developers got a hold of it and turned it into a gated community.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year.

Contacts INDIAN DUNES NATIONAL LAKESHORE: 219-926-7561; www.nps.gov/indu Alice Marble Gray is buried in the Oak Lawn Cemetery in Gary, Indiana.

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EFFIGY MOUNDS For Their Eyes Only n Iowa, near the banks of the Mississippi River, American pyramids, great earthen mounds built by an ancient race, remind us that civilization and culture existed on this continent long before the invention of National Public Radio. Fine examples of these impressive earthworks are protected within Effigy Mounds National Park. Effigy mounds are mounds shaped like living things. They appear in six forms—bear, bird, turtle, lizard, cat, and human. The largest in the park is 417 feet high and contains seven conical mounds connected by linear segments. The most beautiful grouping is the Marching Bears, a long arc of 10 bear-shaped mounds, each three feet high and 90 feet in length. Who built these elaborate mounds? Racist prejudices made the obvious answer seem absurd to many famous thinkers of the eighteenth century, who rejected the idea that mounds of such sophisticated design could have been constructed by the ancestors of “savage” Native Americans. Which is funny considering the outlandish theories some of these educated men suggested. Like maybe the mounds were built by a mysterious albino race from Tennessee who could only be seen at night and who avoided the sun. Or the lost tribes of Israel. Or supernatural beings from the lost city of Atlantis. Archeologists now tell us that an indigenous people, the Woodland civilization, constructed these mounds sometime around 500 B.C. When they opened up a mound in Illinois, researchers made a grisly discovery. The center of “Mound 72“ contained 300 corpses, including a king surrounded by sacrificed servants, the bodies of four men with their heads and hands missing, and the skeletons of 53 young women. In the heart of another mound, they found a ceremonial mask made from a human skull. These gruesome finds inspired a few archeologists to classify the early mound builders as a “death cult.” This label is probably unfair. Imagine what conclusions a future race might make 2,500 years from now, if video game DVDs are the only record

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remaining from our culture. The weirdest thing about effigy mounds is that their shapes are best seen from the air and their artistry appears to be for the benefit of an entity in the sky, leading some to view the mounds as evidence of a prehistoric visitation by extraterrestrials. It’s a theory that makes mainstream archeologists cringe. Yet the mystery endures. For whose eyes were the effigy mounds intended? Hikes: North Unit Trails, South Unit Trails

Unsolved Massacre at Yellow River n March 1827, Francis Methode, his wife, and their seven children lived in a camp on the banks of the Yellow River. The family was there to collect syrup from maple trees and turn it into sugar. When the Methodes failed to return to their home as expected, a search party went looking for them. The searchers found the Methodes scattered about the family’s burned encampment, their bodies mangled and charred so badly that cause of death could not be determined. The only member of the family to escape such a gruesome death was the Methodes’ dog, which had been shot. Clamped between its teeth was a swath of scarlet cloth. This solitary clue had folks assuming the massacre was the doing of a local Indian tribe that typically wore leggings made of red fabric. However, five other outsiders, three whites and two Indian women, camping in the area at the same time, were unhurt. Hike: Yellow River Boardwalk

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THE HIKES North Unit Trails MILES: EFFORT:

2 to 7 Moderate

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Effigy Mounds North Unit Trails, South Unit Trails, Yellow River Boardwalk

TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

The main park visitor center. You’ll see two burial mounds as soon as you step outside the North Unit Visitor Center. One of these 2,000year-old mounds contained an altar of cremated bones placed in a ritualistic manner common to the Indians associated with the Middle Woodland period. Further along the Fire Point Trail, you’ll see the Fire Point


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Mound, which contained eight burials and a copper breastplate. The Great Bear Mound, the largest bear mound in the world, is also along this trail. Several side spurs allow for exploration of the numerous mounds in this unit of the park.

South Unit Trails MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

4 Moderate To reach the South Unit from the North Unit Visitor Center, turn left on Highway 76. The parking area is another half-mile. This trail starts with a moderately steep climb and then levels off. After taking the spur to the Compound Mound group, continue a couple of miles further to see the Marching Bear Mounds.

Yellow River Boardwalk MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.86 Easy Handicapped In the North Unit. Trail begins at the main visitor center. This wheelchair accessible path heads south from the visitor center. The raised boardwalk passes by Buffalo Pond on its way to the banks of the Yellow River.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year.

Contact EFFIGY MOUNDS NATIONAL MONUMENT: 563-873-3491; www.nps.gov/efmo

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C & O CANAL Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door uilt between 1828 and 1850, the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal was a heavily used water highway. Until 1924, goods were transported between Washington, D.C. and Cumberland, Maryland via boats in the canals which were towed by mules on the towpath. Today, the 184-mile towpath is a linear park favored by hikers and cyclists. In 1849, a Union soldier camping near Great Falls found gold flecks sparkling in a nearby stream, initiating a mini-gold rush to the area. In 1865, the Maryland Mine was opened. The gold was mined, off and on, until a series of odd and unfortunate events shut down the mine in 1908. On June 15, 1906, at 10:45 P.M., miners took a break inside a shed just outside of the mine. The men were preparing to set a charge of dynamite in one of the mine’s 500-foot tunnels. While sipping from a bottle of liquor, one man absentmindedly placed his helmet mounted candle-lantern next to a box of dynamite another miner had placed on the bench. The candle lit the fuse and the miners rushed out of the building. One miner, Charles Eglin, was killed in the explosion. Strange things began to happen after that. First, a draft horse that had worked the mine many times before suddenly refused to enter the gates, rising up and pawing the air whenever it was brought near the property. Then miners began to hear knocking noises and footsteps coming up behind them in the dark recesses of the mine. A historic photo of the C & O Canal.

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Since medieval times, miners have told tales of “little miners” who lived under the earth. Germans called them Berggeister or “mountain ghosts.” The Berggeister could be good or bad, hurting or helping miners. In North America these spirits were known as “Tommy Knockers” because they made knocking noises. Some believed Tommy Knockers were the souls of dead miners trying to warn the living of danger. Others believed the Tommy Knockers were portents of death, and the first miner to hear the knocking would soon die. Pick, pick, pick, as the Cornish miner song goes, is the last awful sign. For whoever hears it will be the next in line. One night after Charles Eglin’s death, the night watchman of the Maryland Mine heard footsteps coming up the gravel path to the office door. According to a documented historical account, the watchman heard knocks on the door, but when he opened it, no one was there. Another evening, the same watchman was checking on the mine where he encountered “a ghostie-looking man with eyes of fire and a tail 10 feet long” crawling out of the shaft. The demon ran into the forest dragging its tail behind him. After that, the watchman told his boss, “I ain’t doin’ that job no more.” The watchman quit, and the foreman couldn’t find anyone brave enough to fill the position. In 1908, the mine closed. Hike: Gold Mine Loop

THE HIKE Gold Mine Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3.2 Moderate The blue-blazed trail begins and ends at the Great Falls Tavern Visitor Center. Climb the hill above the tavern. Approximately a mile from the start, you’ll encounter a fork in the trail. Go

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C & O Canal Gold Mine Loop

left and you will soon see a yellow-blazed spur to the left. Take the spur for 0.1 mile to the ruins of the Maryland Mine. The mouths of three or four mine shafts are hidden in the underbrush. Chainlink fences and stern signs herd you away from the many hazards—collapsing mine shafts, noxious fumes, and discarded dynamite. Continue past the ruins a little further to Falls Road where there is an interpretive exhibit. Return to the Gold Mine Trail and continue around the loop, ignoring the spur trails coming in from your left as you make your way back to the start.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Anytime.

Contact C & O CANAL NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK: 301-767-3714; www.nps.gov/choh


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PICTURED ROCKS The Lake They Call Gitchee Gummee efore the roof collapsed, Pictured Rock’s Grand Portal archway resembled a human face. The Chippewa named this rock arch Nanitoucksinagoit or “likeness of the devil.” An early explorer to the region noticed that Indians left tobacco offerings on the multicolored cliffs above these surf-pounded caverns to appease the demons that lived there. Early human inhabitants along the shore of Lake Superior— the largest (by surface area) freshwater lake in the world—believed the waters were home to a hideous but rarely seen monster. At various sites along the shore, they left drawings of an underwater panther on the rocks. Over 400 years ago, they used red ochre to paint figures of cat-like creatures with humped backs and long serpent’s tails onto the cliff faces above the lake. The best example can be seen at Agawa Rock in Ontario’s Lake Superior Provincial Park. In 1865, Captain George Robarge of the S.S. CURRY, along with two of his shipmates, observed a serpent racing their ship. The “antediluvian reptile,” as Robage reported in the Detroit Free Press, had a 15-foot-long neck, which it thrust above the surface of the lake, revealing a body that pulsed with a strange undulating motion. Sometime during the 1930s, a fisherman at Pictured Rocks claimed to have spotted an animal swimming in the lake, an animal big enough to create a wake along the rocky shore. In 1977, Randy Braun, a 26-year-old backpacker, was hiking along the shore near Presque Isle River when he snapped a picture of the Lake Superior monster. In the photo, the monster looks suspiciously like a log floating in the water, but Braun says the shiny bump is the head of a huge serpent that when seen in person resembles an “anaconda with the girth of a Volkswagen.” It was a glassy-lake morning the day the monster lifted its head out of the water and contemplated Braun with one dark eye and a catfish-like whisker, “two feet long and wiggling,” before swimming off. The encounter certainly made an impact on the young backpacker. As

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Braun writes on www.monstertracker.com, “I don’t swim in any deep water lake anymore and occasionally [I] have nightmares of being consumed by the thing I saw.” The Ojibwa name for Lake Superior’s mysterious resident is Gitche-anahimi-bezheu or “Great underwater wildcat.” But after Braun sighted her near the Presque Isle River, people began calling the monster “Pressie” for short. Skeptics attribute Pressie sightings to a “living fossil,” a fish under the genus Acipenser that has been around for 136 million years. The lake sturgeon survived the reign of the dinosaurs, but it may not survive us. Pollution, dams, and the craving for caviar have played a role in turning this ancient fish into an endangered species. Sturgeons have shark-like tails, rows of bony plates along their backs, and two sets of prominent barbels (whiskers) extending from their wide mouths. The females live to be 150 years old, and grow to be seven feet long and can weigh over 150 pounds. A similar species in Russia grows even larger. The largest sturgeon recorded was a female over 24 feet long and weighing nearly 700 pounds. Considering the anatomy of a sturgeon, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel to come to the conclusion that most Pressie sightings must be little more than cases of mistaken identity. Except for one nagging fact: Sturgeons are benthivores. They feed on small invertebrates such as insects, crayfish, clams, and leeches. So if sturgeons are benthivores, what did the men fishing near Point Iroquois see in 1990? According to reports, these men witnessed a large unidentified, underwater animal grab hold of a wading buck deer, pull the deer underwater and devour it, leaving behind nothing but the deer’s severed head. Hikes: Lakeshore Trail, Chapel Loop, Agawa Rock Pictographs

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THE HIKES Lakeshore Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

48 (one-way) Easy to Strenuous The hike starts (or ends) at the Visitor Information Center on the corner of M-28 and East Munising Street (get permits and maps here) and terminates on M-77 in the village of Grand Marais. This staggeringly gorgeous section of the larger North Country Trail runs the entire length of the Pictured Rocks shoreline. Grand Sable Dunes, sandy beaches, a lighthouse, a log slide, and 12 backcountry campsites are found on this route, which is heavily used during the summer months. Backpackers should plan on a three-day trek. Day hikers can get on and off the trail in several places, but the serious Pressie hunter will do the whole thing. As one hiker put it, this path along the shoreline of Pictured Rocks is “the most scenic trail in Michigan.”

Pictured Rocks Lakeshore Trail, Chapel Loop

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Chapel Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

9 Moderate The parking lot at the end of Chapel Road. If you don’t have time to walk the entire length of the lakeshore, this loop will give you a “cliff” note perspective on the park’s most spectacular views. From the Chapel parking lot, hike to Mosquito Beach, then go east along the Lakeshore Trail to Chapel Beach. From here, it’s 2.7 miles back to the trailhead.

Agawa Rock Pictographs MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

1 Easy Water Route At Lake Superior Provincial Park, the Agawa Rock Pictographs are across the lake and about 250 road miles from Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. The Pictographs trailhead parking lot is in Ontario on Canada 17, north of Sault Ste. Marie, and 80 km south of Wawa. From the parking lot, a half-mile path leads to the rock panel. You can also kayak to the site. Paddlers launching boats from Sinclair Cove can reach the pictographs in 15 minutes.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

April through October, unless you like snow; Pictured Rocks gets more than 200 inches of the white stuff in the winter.

Contacts PICTURED ROCKS NATIONAL LAKESHORE: 906-387-3700; www.nps.gov/piro LAKE SUPERIOR PROVINCIAL PARK: 705-856-2284; www.ontarioparks.com

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ISLE ROYALE Ravenous efore the conveniences of Rescue 911 and the all-you-can-eat buffet, the fear of starvation remained ever-present in the minds of both Native Americans and white settlers in the cold provinces of North America. These primal anxieties found a metaphor in Algonquian legends about an evil spirit that roamed the lonely wilderness in search of lost people. To the Native Americans of the north, this creature was the “Windigo,” and it had an insatiable appetite for human flesh. Windigoes are like vampires and werewolves in that a person becomes one when bit. But the Windigo may also take control of your mind during times of isolation or starvation. Once possessed by the Windigo, according to Native American mythology (first documented in 1636), you will develop a craving for human flesh which transforms you into a vicious killer who murders to feed his or her new appetite. During the late nineteenth century, psychiatrists discovered a rare form of mental illness in which a person experiences depression, loss of appetite for normal food, and fears of becoming a cannibal. They labeled the condition “Windigo Psychosis” and said the derangement appeared to be triggered by an extended period of starvation and solitude in the wilderness. The most disturbing thing about Windigo psychosis is that it has infected the minds of the most ethical of men, turned mothers into baby-killers, and transformed lovers into mortal enemies. The horror flick Ravenous, starring the hunky Guy Pierce as Captain John Boyd, a cannibal who looks good enough to eat, is an interesting take on the Windigo myth. Set in 1827, the script appears to be inspired by a real event. In Voyages and Travels of an Indian Interpreter and Trader, John Long writes about a story told by a group of Hudson Bay trappers encamped in the Canadian wilderness north of Lake Superior. In 1778, the leader of these trappers, Mr. Fulton, sent a party of three men out to hunt for provisions. While on this extended excursion, Charles Janvier, Francois St. Ange, and Lewis Dufresne, all Canadians, found

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A foggy boat ride out to Isle Royale.

themselves lost in the wilderness for many days. Near starvation, a compassionate Indian found the men and gave them all his game. The Indian promised to return with more provisions, but the appetite of Charles Janvier could not be satiated by otter meat. Janvier asked the Indian to set a log on the fire. As soon as the Indian turned his back, Janvier cleaved him down with an axe. St. Ange and Dufresne watched in horror as their friend dragged the Indian to the door of the hut, cut him into pieces, and put the pieces into a cauldron set on the fire. A few days later, weakened by hunger and intimidated by Janvier’s madness, Dufresne and St. Ange partook of the wretched meal. Days later, when the last of the Indian had been consumed, Janvier killed St. Ange and forced the whimpering Dufresne to eat. Strengthened by their unholy nourishment, Janvier and Dufresne then made the journey back to base camp. At camp, Mr. Fulton inquired as to the whereabouts of the third trapper. Janvier told him that St. Ange had gone on a hunt with an Indian and would soon return. But St. Ange did not soon return, and Fulton became suspicious. He separated the two men and interrogated them. The terrified Dufresne finally broke down and confessed. What followed was an eighteenth century version of a Law and Order interrogation scene. Fulton spat out dogged questions at Janvier who provided insolent and evasive answers, solemnly denying the charges of murder and cannibalism. Resorting to a well-worn crossexamination technique, Fulton asked his hostile witness a trick question, “Which was the best part of man?”


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With a snarl, Janvier replied that anyone who had eaten human flesh could easily tell. The tastiest part of man was the feet. Broken by his interrogator, Janvier admitted his dastardly deed, saying that in a similar situation he would kill his own brother. After declaring Janvier a disgrace to human nature who shouldn’t live a moment longer, Mr. Fulton promptly put a bullet in Janvier’s forehead. Hikes: Windigo Nature Trail, Feldtmann Ridge Loop

Mutton Stew on Mott Island ess than 100 miles south of where Charles Janvier succumbed to the spirit of the Windigo, and only 15 water miles south of the Canadian border, is Isle Royale, a massive island some claim to be “the least visited national park.” Dwarfed by the waters of Lake Superior, from the air, Isle Royale looks like an eye in a huge lake that is shaped like a wolf’s head. The island’s wild beauty has inspired one guidebook author to write, “Isle Royale isn’t a park. It’s paradise.” But heaven on earth is a fickle and fleeting state, as Alice Mott discovered the winter she came

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The isolated beauty of Isle Royale.

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face to face with the Windigo of Isle Royale. In July of 1845, a speculative investor hired Alice and her husband, Charlie Mott, to watch over his copper mine on Isle Royale during the summer. The investor dropped the Motts on the island with minimal supplies, promising to return with a resupply boat two weeks later. Two weeks came and went without any sign of a supply boat. The Motts’ provisions—six pounds of rancid butter, a half barrel of flour, and a few beans—didn’t last long. They ate fish until they lost their canoe. They subsisted on bark and berries until it snowed. Five days before Christmas, no boat had come and the couple, as Alice later described it, were drawing their “belts tighter and tighter; but it was no use; you can’t cheat hunger; you can’t fill up that inward craving that gnaws within you like a wolf.” Charlie suffered the worst. Alice watched her husband grow weaker and weaker. Then a fever set in, and Charlie “went clear out of his head.” One day he jumped up from the fire with a butcher knife in his hand. Sharpening the knife on a whetstone, Charlie said he was tired of being hungry. He was going to slaughter a sheep. And then he glared at his wife in a way that left no room for misunderstanding: she was the sheep he intended to slaughter. Needless to say, Alice didn’t get much sleep that night. She kept a wary eye on her husband until he became so weak she was able to wrestle the butcher knife out of his hands. Charlie died a few days later. Alice kept his body inside their lonely hut. “You ask me if I wasn’t afraid when left alone on that island,” Alice Mott told a writer many years later. “Not of the things you speak of. Sometimes I was so hungry, so very hungry, and the hunger raged so in my veins that I was tempted, O, how terribly tempted to take Charlie and make soup of him. I knew it was wrong . . . I didn’t want to do it, but some day the fever might come on me as it did him, and when I came to my senses, I might find myself in the very act of eating him up. Thank God, whatever else I suffered, I was spared that; but I tell you...that was the thing of which I was most afraid . . .” One morning the next May, the criminally forgetful investor arrived to pick up his employees. He shook Alice’s hand and said, “Where’s Charlie?” Alice directed the investor and his men to her hut, where Charlie still rested. The men inspected the body and found no


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evidence of murder or cannibalism. The scene of Alice’s harrowing ordeal, Mott Island, is now the site of park headquarters. Some historians believe Charlie Mott is buried under the men’s restroom near the main dock. Isle Royale’s rocky shores are only reachable by boat or seaplane. Visitors to the park arrive by boats bound for docks at either Rock Harbor or Windigo Dock. Historian Liz Valencia says it is unclear exactly how Windigo, Isle Royale’s western harbor, got its name. If you doubt that a Windigo inhabits Isle Royale, take the map of the park and turn it upside down. Find Feldtmann Lake. That’s the eye. Now look to Cumberland Point. That’s the nose. The mouth is the fjord-like Washington Harbor. The rest of the island is the body. See? Meet the Windigo of Isle Royale. Hikes: Mott Island Loop, Cemetery Island

He Could Have Used a Double Espresso f Isle Royale eats anything, it eats ships. Many vessels have met their doom on the rocks of this remote island in the far corner of America’s largest lake. In his book, Submerged: Adventures of America’s Most Elite Underwater Archeology Team, park service diving expert Daniel Lenihan writes, “Lake Superior is not the Caribbean—it is cold, harsh, and extracts heavy penalties for even small mistakes.” At depths below 50 feet, the temperature of Lake Superior never climbs above 34 degrees Fahrenheit, and this frigid water does such an impressive job of preserving organic remains that drowned sailors still float through some of the doomed vessels lying on the bottom of the lake. Yet scuba divers are still drawn to the ruins of 10 major shipwrecks that lie just offshore of Isle Royale. Three of them, the Kamloops, the Algoma, and the Emperor suffered major loss of life. As the ferry boats enter the Washington Harbor, the Windigo’s mouth, park visitors are greeted by the wreck of the S.S. America. At the turn of the twentieth century, the America ferried people and supplies to and from Isle Royale until a shoal ripped a hole in her hull in 1928. With the exception of an Irish Setter chained to the fantail, all passengers and crew made it to safety. But the S.S. America would not be denied her

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death toll. Deep inside the America’s cavernous hull is a place scuba divers call the “forbidden room.” In order to enter it, divers had to squeeze through a partially open door, the back side of which was covered with latches or “dogs” that grabbed at wet suits and regulator hoses. But the well-preserved artifacts inside made this tight room too hard for some divers to resist. The forbidden room stole the life of one young diver and nearly killed six others before the park service decided to remove the cursed door. The last major shipwreck at Isle Royale occurred early in the morning on June 4, 1947. When the Emperor hit Canoe Rocks and sank, 12 crew members died, including the first mate. Most likely, fatigue played a factor in the tragedy. James Morrey, the first mate on watch that night, had worked a triple shift and had been awake for over 24 hours preceding the tragedy. I’d like to think Morrey is finding comfort in the old adage, “You can sleep when you’re dead.” In 1988, a sport diver exploring the murky depths of the Emperor’s hull swam into the crew’s sleeping quarters and discovered the ghost of a crew member reclining on a bunk. Hike: Hidden Lake / Lookout Louise Trail

THE HIKES Windigo Nature Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

1 Easy At the Windigo Dock. Isle Royale’s western harbor appeals to hikers seeking a gateway to the wilderness. Ferries out of Grand Portage make trips to Windigo daily during the summer. Near the dock you’ll find a campground, a general store, a restroom with showers, a laundromat, and a self-guided nature trail with interpretive signs to teach you about the island’s plants and animals.


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Feldtmann Ridge Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

19 Strenuous Begins and ends at the Windigo Dock. Bring plenty of food for this three- to four-day trek. Backcountry camps are found at Feldtmann Lake (the Windigo’s eye), Siskiwit Bay, and the Island Mine. For a short day hike, walk the Feldtmann Ridge Trail for 1.8 miles to an overlook with a view (on clear days) of Lake Superior. Moose, wolves, and foxes thrive in the park’s 500,000 acres, and paddlers along the shore have reported seeing Pressie (see Pictured Rocks) swimming under their boats.

Mott Island Loop MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

2.6 Moderate to Strenuous Water Route Get off the ferry at Mott Island. From the airplane dock, go left. This trail weaves through the forest for the first mile as it hugs the shoreline, taking you to several small coves with pebble beaches and views of the harbor. North of park headquarters the trail passes by the appropriately named Starvation Point, then crosses the island to the Lake Superior shore, before heading back to the dock. For a surf-and-turf adventure, rent a canoe at Rock Harbor, paddle 4 miles down the protected waters to Mott Island, do the hike, and then paddle back. Or make it an overnight trip by camping at Three-Mile Campground, a half-mile paddle from Mott Island and a 3.5 mile paddle from Rock Harbor.

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Isle Royale Windigo Nature Trail, Feldtmann Ridge Loop, Mott Island, Cemetery Island, Hidden Lake/Lookout Louise Trail

Cemetery Island MILES: EFFORT: ACCESSIBILITY: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

4 Easy Water Route Launch your boat from Rock Harbor (kayak rentals available here) and paddle out to Cemetery Island. According to legend, some liquor smuggled off of a supply ship led to tragedy during the late 1800s when, after a wild party, English and Irish miners went at each other with pick handles, knives, and guns. Allegedly, 40 miners killed during the fight were buried on nearby Cemetery Island. But Isle Royale historian Liz Valencia says there is no documentation of a battle between the Irish and the English miners, and the 10 to 15 headstones on Cemetery Island are marked with the names of women and children.


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Hidden Lake/Lookout Louise Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

2 Moderate Most people arrive at Isle Royale via ferries out of Copper Harbor or the government ferry out of Houghton, Michigan. At Rock Harbor there is a lodge, a restaurant, a snack bar, a gift shop, an outfitter, and a full-service marina, all of which make death by starvation an unlikely prospect. From Rock Harbor, you’ll have to hire a water taxi to take you to the Hidden Lake dock where this trail starts. (Or you can rent a canoe and paddle there yourself.) Keep your eyes peeled for wildlife. A natural salt lick near Hidden Lake attracts moose to this area. The trail climbs over several ridges and passes a mammoth sea stack on the way to Lookout Louise, which offers a fantastic view of Isle Royale’s north side. On a clear day, Ontario can be seen 20 miles to the north, and you should be able to spot Canoe Rocks, the shoals that devoured the Emperor’s hull in 1947.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GETTING

GO:

THERE:

Summer, especially August. Come prepared to do battle with the bugs. The mosquitoes, black flies, and nosee-ums can make a ravenous Windigo seem downright cordial. This park is one of the few that are closed during the winter. Three companies offer ferry services to Isle Royale. Prices and schedule change each year. Contact the park service and ask for a free copy of The Greenstone, the park newspaper which provides updated information on the best way to visit Isle Royale. Although day trips are possible, a visit to Isle Royale is a relatively expensive and time-consuming endeavor. Plan on spending at least four days there

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HAUNTED HIKES because there is so much to see. Permits for camping and boating can be obtained on the Ranger III or at the visitor centers on the island.

Contacts ISLE ROYALE NATIONAL PARK; 906-482-0984; www.nps.gov/isro ROCK HARBOR LODGE: 270-773-2191 FOR FERRY RESERVATIONS: Ranger III travels from Houghton, MI to Rock Harbor: 906-482-8753 Isle Royale Queen IV travels from Copper Harbor to Rock Harbor: 906-289-4437; www.isleroyale.com M.V. Voyageur II travels from Grand Portage to Windigo: 218-387-1768; www.grand-isle-royale.com

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Yellowstone National Park.

WIND CAVE Lights Out n October 1989, a young female spelunker participating in a mock rescue was exploring the deeper recesses of Wind Cave when her head lamp went out. Separated from her caving partner, the woman blindly crawled through “Room Draculum,” a section named after the enigmatic words that had been smoked onto the ceiling many years ago. Descending deeper and deeper into the cave, the woman became more and more lost. What had started out as a rescue training exercise had now become a very real search-and-rescue operation. Twenty-four hours later, rescuers had failed to find the woman and the situation looked bleak. A psychic called offering some information that might help. The lost woman would be found in a room in the cave called “Duncan.” The desperate rangers were willing to try anything, but there was no room in Wind Cave by that name. Thirty-seven hours after her head lamp went out, the woman was found wedged into an unexplored passage of the cave. Inconceivably, she had squeezed her body through several “phenomenally tight crawls.” So tight, that in order to reach her, rescuers had to break off formations of the cave. A few years later, two cave surveyors were mapping undocumented portions of the cave. The surveyors had a sense of humor. When they came to the room where the woman was found, they christened it Duncan, thereby making the psychic’s prediction come true. Hikes: Garden of Eden Tour, Candlelight Tour

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It Breathes he first white man to see Wind Cave was a cowboy who found the entrance when a puff of air from the cave blew off his hat. Scientists have measured gusts in excess of 70 m.p.h. coming out of the cave’s mouth. Wind Cave is a barometric cave, thus it blows in or out depending on the atmospheric pressure. In other words, it breathes. In 1889, a young man named Alvin McDonald came to Wind Cave when his father was hired as caretaker. Alvin spent a few hours of almost every day inside the cave, exploring the labyrinths by candlelight and naming many of the cave’s features, including a room called “Garden of Eden.” By all accounts, Alvin was in love with Wind Cave. In 1893, when he fell ill and the symptoms kept him from his beloved cavern for only two days, the young man wrote in his journal, “[I] am homesick for the cave.” In December of that same year, at the age of 20, Alvin died from typhoid and pneumonia. He is buried on a hill just outside the natural entrance. From the visitor center, a short footpath leads to the stone marking the gravesite. Park rangers who lead tourists through the cavern today are fond of the park’s “chief guide.” They sense a kindred spirit in Alvin McDonald’s passion for Wind Cave’s natural beauty. In 1981, a female ranger leading a group of five people through the cave stopped at the Garden of Eden to do “lights out.” Lights out is the part of the tour when rangers turn off the electric lights, giving tourists an old-fashioned view of the cave. By the light of her “candle bucket” the ranger noticed that her group of five had grown to six. From out of nowhere, an additional person had joined her group—a man wearing “period” clothing. Startled, the ranger immediately turned on the electric lights, and the man disappeared. Upset but not wanting to frighten her tour group, the ranger practically dragged her charges to the elevator. In the summer of 1986, there was another sighting. A group of new rangers on an orientation trip had explored so deeply into the cave that by the time they were ready to leave, it was 2:00 A.M. On the way out, one ranger began to have trouble with his light, so he rushed ahead of the group toward the elevator. While in the corridors of the Garden of Eden, the ranger heard

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a cough to his right. He turned to look down the passageway. A man wearing clothes from another age stood not more than 100 feet away from him. The apparition met the ranger’s eyes. The ranger said it looked as if the man was surprised he could see him. The man started down the passageway and then turned down another corridor. The ranger walked down the passageway after the man, but when he turned the corner, the vision had vanished. Later, on separate occasions, the rangers who had seen these phantoms were shown a “line-up” of historic photos of people previously associated with the cave. Neither ranger recognized the man they had seen in any of the photos. Hike: Wild Cave Tour

THE HIKES Garden of Eden Tour MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.25 Moderate Cave Elevator Building. You must be able to climb 150 steps to take this one hour tour ($4). Although there are several miles of hiking trails above ground, the best way to experience Wind Cave is to take one of the ranger’s guided tours. The Garden of Eden tour is the shortest and the easiest. An elevator takes groups down to the Assembly Room which is near the Garden of Eden.

Candlelight Tour MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

1 Easy Cave Elevator Building. This trip is only given during

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DESCRIPTION:

the summer months and is well worth the $7 fee. Children under seven are not permitted. Reservations are strongly recommended for this popular tour. This tour gives you a feel for what it was like to explore the cave before the installation of electric lights. You will carry “candle buckets” similar to the ones used by early cave explorers like Alvin McDonald as you tour the Garden of Eden.

Wind Cave Tour MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

4 Strenuous Cave Elevator Building. For your $20 fee the park service will loan you their head lamps, hard hats, and knee pads. Reservations are recommended and you must be 16 or over. Not for the claustrophobics in the family, this tour gets down and dirty and requires some crawling, climbing, and squeezing into tight spaces. Bring some old clothes, a pair of gloves, and a sense of adventure.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Cave closed Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day.

Contact WIND CAVE NATIONAL PARK: 605-745-4600; www.nps.gov/wica

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Wind Cave Mirror Lake Loop

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GREAT SAND DUNES The Entrails Were Missing ince the 1950s, people have been coming to the Great Sand Dunes to watch UFOs. Some nights the UFOs were such a common occurrence at North America’s tallest sand dunes that motorists lined up along the highway south of the park to watch the show. But this sandy back pocket of Colorado didn’t hit the UFO conspiracy big time until September 9, 1967, the day a rancher found a dead horse lying in a meadow three miles south of the park boundary. The carcass smelled of chemicals, the head and neck were devoid of flesh, and the animal was surrounded by 15 circular “exhaust marks.” There was no blood on the ground and no horse prints leading to the death site. Using a Civil Defense Geiger Counter, a forest service ranger, Duane Martin, measured a significant increase in radioactivity around the body. The three-year-old Appaloosa, dubbed Snippy by the press, belonged to Nellie Lewis. When Lewis visited the site, she found an object, a tool of some sort, covered in horse hair. Lewis picked up the metal tool and wiped the hair off with her hand. Immediately, her hand turned red and began to burn. This burning sensation persisted until Lewis washed her hands. In a story titled “Horse-Saucer Mystery Gets Even Weirder,” the San Francisco Chronicle reported that four members of the National Members Investigating Committee on Aerial Phenomena, including a military officer from the National Air Defense Command Center, traveled to the site. An autopsy was performed by a Denver pathologist who asked to remain anonymous. The pathologist noted the organs in the horse’s abdominal cavity were missing, and when he sawed into the horse’s skull, he found it empty. The investigation team took custody of the tool Lewis found at the site and made measurements of the circular impressions in the brush near the horse. The largest was 75 feet in diameter. During the months leading up to Snippy’s death, the Alamaso

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Nellie Lewis (center) examines Snippy’s corpse.

Sheriff’s office received scores of UFO reports and newspapers printed the stories of several witnesses who had seen red lights or “crescentshaped objects over the dunes.” The eyewitnesses to these UFOs included a Superior Court Judge and his wife. However, a veterinarian hired by the Condon Committee—the infamous UFO research/debunking organization—concluded that the odd decay pattern on the carcass was the result of something more prosaic. The horse had a severe infection in its hindquarters and someone had slit its throat to put the animal out of its misery. Scavenger animals were responsible for removing all the flesh from the neck up, including the brain, intestines, and spinal cord. But what was the strange, skin-burning tool Nellie Lewis found? Most likely we will never know. The Condon Committee investigators reportedly “lost” it. Lewis, as well as many others, became convinced that extraterrestrials in a flying saucer had killed Snippy and that the government was covering it up. The bizarre death of her horse, or perhaps the national media attention it brought, took its toll on Lewis’s mind. Ten years after her Appaloosa was mutilated by persons or things unknown, Nellie Lewis committed suicide. Hike: High and Star Dunes

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UFO Grand Central Station attle mutilation reports still come in from time to time and UFO sightings by visitors to the Great Sand Dunes are frequent. Some claim to have seen slow-moving, multicolored lights hovering over the highways. Others noticed low-flying black triangles chasing military jets, round metallic aircraft hovering in clear blue skies, or bright red cigar-shaped flying saucers buzzing over the dunes. In 1999, several campers reported hearing loud, “nauseatingly low” hums. The humming was so strong it vibrated the park signs, and the next morning, an unmarked white government van was seen in the area. As suspicious as this seems, the scientific explanation for low

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Great Sand Dunes.

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frequency hums is just as phenomenal as the supernatural one. Under the right conditions, avalanching sand produces seismic acoustics called “booming.” The noises have been compared to distant kettle drums, low-flying helicopters, and artillery fire. Great Sand Dunes is one of the few places in North America where this “singing sand” phenomenon occurs. Another one of nature’s party tricks can be seen in the spring, when melting snow fills Medano Creek with water, and the underwater sand dunes cause rhythmic pulsating waves through the water that scientists call “surge flow,” and that kids with rubber floats call “awesome.” Hike: Sand and Ramp Backpack

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THE HIKES High and Star Dunes MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: ACCESSIBILITY: DESCRIPTION:

2 to 6 Moderate to Strenuous The Dunes Parking Lot on the main park road. Kids There are no designated trails out to the dunes, so open the doors to the rental car, let the kids loose, and run out and play. High Dune (650 feet) can be seen from the parking lot. To climb it, cross the flats and then zigzag your way up to a fantastic view. Now you can see Star Dune (750 feet), the tallest pile of sand in North America. From the parking lot, it’s about one mile to the top of High Dune, where you can decide if you are up for the additional four miles of strenuous sand walking required to climb Star Dune. Explore the dunes early or late during the summer months, and bring your shoes with you! Sand gets super heated on sunny days.

Sand and Ramp Backpack MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

5 to 11.5 (one-way) Easy to Strenuous Hike begins from Loop 2 of the Pinon Flats Campground According to the park brochure, “scenery abounds in all directions” on this trail skirting the east and north sides of nature’s sandbox. There are six designated campgrounds along the way—Escape Dunes (2.4 miles), Indian Grove (3.9 miles), Little Medano (4.9 miles and a good water source), Aspen (6.7 miles), Cold Creek (9.9 miles), and Sand Creek (11.5 miles)— allowing you to design a trek to match your fitness level. For the best UFO watching, hike beyond the day

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Great Sand Dunes High and Star Dunes, Sand and Ramp Backpack Mirror Lake Loop

use areas and camp on the dunes under one of the darkest skies in North America. An easy overnighter in the sand would be to hike 1.4 miles to Point of No Return and then hike one mile into the dunes. Obtain a free permit at the Visitor Center first, pick a calm night (windy conditions + sand camping = no fun), and bring plenty of water.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

All year. Summers are hot and more crowded. Winters are cold and quiet. Go in spring to see the surge flow.

Contact GREAT SAND DUNES NATIONAL MONUMENT

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PRESERVE: 719-378-6300; www.nps.gov/grsa.

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ROCKY MOUNTAIN One Last Visit ne side of his face was repulsive—he’d lost an eye in a fight with a grizzly—but the other side could have been “modeled in marble.” He was a broad, thickset man with sensitive gray-blue eyes, long tawny curls, and an aquiline nose. The cultured tones of a gentleman came from his handsome mouth, but his whiskey-fueled moods had earned him a reputation for being “the most awful ruffian in Colorado.” Around Estes Park, he went by “Rocky Mountain Jim,” and his looks were as rugged and intimidating as the saw-toothed peaks he called home. In October 1873, an intrepid English spinster, Isabella Bird, made the acquaintance of the notorious Jim Nugent at the base of the windswept ranges that later became Rocky Mountain National Park. During their first encounter, Bird’s eyes widened at the long knife protruding from the trapper’s deerskin britches and the revolver peeking out of his leather shirt. In letters to her sister, she described Nugent as “terrible” and “awful looking,” but we are still wondering what inspired the Victorian writer more, the mountains or the man, when she wrote “this scenery is not lovable, but I love it.” Within two days of their meeting, “Mr. Nugent,” as she scrupulously called him, offered to guide Bird and two young men to the top of Longs Peak. When the men complained that a woman would be a “dangerous encumbrance,” Nugent replied that he would take the lady up the mountain or he would not go at all. Bird’s classic adventure narrative, A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains, breathlessly describes the two nights the climbing party camped in the idyllic meadow later named Jim’s Grove. On the first night, Bird lay on a bed of pine needles under a bower of miniature spruce. Anxious about tomorrow’s bid for the summit, and suffering from insomnia, she listened to the wind howling through the trees and watched the mountain man sleeping by the campfire, the handsome side of his face illuminated by the red glow of the warming flames. The next day, Bird became one of the first women to climb

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Isabella Bird and Rocky Mountain Jim loved the rugged ridgelines of Rocky Mountain National Park.

Longs Peak, but this claim to fame humiliated her, since the brawny Nugent had practically hauled her up to the summit. The exact nature of the relationship between the trapper and the lady explorer is Rocky Mountain’s most titillating mystery. In letters to her sister, Bird confessed that Nugent was “a man any woman could love, but no sane woman would marry.” The Victorian morals of the time probably kept the mutual infatuation G-rated. Still, Freud fans will chuckle over the symbolism behind one of Isabella Bird’s dreams—she was lying by a fire, when Jim burst in, pulled a pistol out of his britches, and shot her. Those enchanting nights at Jim’s Grove swirled up passions in Rocky Mountain Jim as well. On November 18, 1873, while riding their horses through a blinding snowstorm, Nugent made a “terrible revelation” to the lady explorer. He was attracted to her and it was killing him. Bird trembled and cried. Too nervous to speak it at the time, she

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officially spurned Jim’s advance in a letter, writing to Nugent that their “acquaintance shall at once terminate.” Two weeks later, Nugent accompanied Bird to the stagecoach that would take the adventurous lady out of the Rocky Mountains and out of his life forever, but in parting, Nugent told her, “I swear that I will see you again.” Six months later, on June 19, 1874, under circumstances and motives that remain controversial, Nugent was shot off his horse in a “cowardly fashion” by a drunken neighbor. Nugent was shot near his cabin in Muggins Gulch, which is on the road between Estes Park and Lyons. Many believed the neighbor had been encouraged by local politics and a “dandy” Englishman’s unjustified fear. In any case, the strapping trapper survived his wounds long enough to be taken to a hospital in Fort Collins, where the shotgun pellets festered in his brain. Nearly three months later, Isabella Bird woke up in a hotel room in Interlaken, Switzerland, to see Rocky Mountain Jim standing by her bed. Nugent was wearing his trapper’s apparel just as she’d last seen him, and he had “his eyes fixed” on her. “I have come, as I promised,” Nugent said. Then the mountain desperado waved his hand farewell and vanished from sight. Bird soon learned that on the very day the trapper had “visited” her bedside, Jim Nugent had fallen into a “low delirium” at the Fort Collins hospital and died. According to the time difference between Jim’s death at 3:00 P.M. Colorado time, and Bird’s sighting of him at 6:00 A.M. Switzerland time, Nugent’s ghost appeared before Bird 16 hours prior to his death, leading some scholars to dismiss Bird’s paranormal experience as fabricated melodrama. However, Bird’s account is typical in cases when someone is haunted by an apparition known as a “fetch.” Quite unsettling, a fetch is an otherworldly appearance or sensation of a person who is about to die. Fetches are typically seen, heard, or smelled by surviving loved ones. Often the haunted individual doesn’t realize they have seen a ghost until after the fetch does something supernatural such as walk through a wall. Later, the living person receives the news that their loved one passed away sometime before or after the fetch appeared. Hike: Jim’s Grove

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You’re Scared of Room Two-Three-Seven, Aren’t You? mong the haunted accommodations in Estes Park, a resort town east of Rocky Mountain National Park, is the Stanley Hotel, built in 1909. One of the ghosts wandering the corridors of the Stanley is Lord Dunraven, a British hunter and voracious land robber. Jim Nugent despised Lord Dunraven and some believed Dunraven had a significant influence on Griff Evans, the man who shot Rocky Mountain Jim. Several months after Nugent’s death, the murder charges against Griff Evans were dropped due to a lack of witnesses. Conspiracy theories suggest that Dunraven and Evans may have conspired to get rid of Nugent, who was vocal in his criticism of their greedy real estate schemes. During a legal proceeding in which Evans was acquitted of Nugent’s murder, Dunraven is reported to have said, “It’s a pity he hadn’t done it sooner.” Lord Dunraven once owned the land the Stanley Hotel is built on. Inexplicably, the Englishman’s snooty ghost prefers Room 407, where he has been seen standing in the corner next to the bathroom, showing his irritation by messing with the light switch. Other spirits hover around Rooms 217, 401, and 418, including the ghost of several small children. Come play with us, Danny, forever and ever and ever. . . . The Stanley inspired Stephen King to write The Shining, a chilling novel about a haunted hotel. National parks and their lodges also provided inspiration for Stanley Kubrick, the director of the film version. Backdropped by an intimidating mountain range, the Stanley’s massive Georgian architecture is suitably unsettling. However, the exterior hotel shots in the big screen version of The Shining were filmed at the Timberline Lodge on Oregon’s Mount Hood. The opening scene, as the character played by Jack Nicholson drives the mountain road leading to the fictional “Overlook Hotel,” was filmed at Montana’s Glacier National Park. The Overlook’s “Colorado Lounge and Lobby,” where the maniacal Jack Torrance types away on his redundant “manuscript,” was designed to look like the lobby of the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite Valley. The Ahwahnee’s chandeliers, windows, front desk, and fireplace so resemble those built for the movie set, that tourists entering the upscale lodge often ask the staff, “Is this The Shining hotel?” While visiting Rocky Mountain National Park, if you can’t get a

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room at the Stanley, try the Baldpate Inn. Open since 1917, the Baldpate is haunted by the original owner, Ethel Mace, a prohibitionist who occasionally sends cocktails flying off the tables

Ghosts in the Mists ong before Europeans traveled to the Rockies, the Ute, the Cheyenne, and the Arapaho fought many bloody battles on the slopes of the mountains. According to legend, the Ute Indians were camping on the shores of “Spirit Lake” when the Arapaho suddenly attacked. In order to protect the women and children, the Ute warriors put their loved ones on a raft and set them adrift in the lake. The battle went well for the Ute, but while they were busy warding off their attackers, a strong wind began to blow, ripping the raft apart, and the women and children drowned. Since then, the Ute avoided Spirit Lake for they believed it to be haunted by the ones who had died there. Spirit Lake is in the southwest corner of the park. It is the second largest natural lake in Colorado. The official (white) name of this 200-foot-deep body of water is Grand Lake. They can change the name, but they can’t kill the story. Even today, images of the Ute’s drowned women and children can be seen in the early morning vapors rising from the cold depths. Hikes: East Inlet Trail, Lulu City via Colorado River Trail

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A Government Conspiracy to Deceive the American Public n August 6, 1917, a 21-year-old woman decided she would live alone in the wilderness of Rocky Mountain National Park. Wearing nothing but leopard skins, Agnes Lowe intended to survive a week in the wild without carrying any food, clothing, or shelter. The “modern Eve” posed for pictures, answered reporters’ questions, shook Superintendent Claude Way’s hand, waved goodbye to a crowd, and stepped barefoot into the forest. Over the next few days, newspaper accounts reported that Lowe was leaving messages saying, “Tempted to give in but didn’t” and “Nearly froze last night,” etched with charcoal upon pieces of bark

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placed along the trail. Hikers told reporters they saw Miss Lowe roaming naked in the forest, and this announcement inspired a man to show up at the park dressed in bearskins after a “vision from heaven” compelled him to join the “Eve of Estes.” Superintendent Way had to warn the self-proclaimed Adam that his rangers would not allow anyone to harm Lowe. A week after she entered the Wild Basin area of the park, Agnes Lowe emerged from the woods and posed for the cameras one last time. Newspaper stories about her appeared nationwide, bringing attention to the newly developed park. The Rocky Mountain Eve received a mail sack containing 64 proposals of marriage. Eventually someone leaked the truth. Lowe was no woodswoman; she was an actress who had slept in a park lodge the entire week, which explains how she was able to gain weight during the time she was supposed to be eating nothing but fish and berries. When the Assistant Director, Horace Albright, heard the news, he declared, “a national park is not the proper stage for this kind of thing.” Pressured by his superiors in Washington, Superintendent Way confessed to conspiring with The Denver Post. They had staged the stunt for “valuable publicity,” hoping the media attention would bring hundreds of people to the park. Ranger R.A. Kennedy, who had been assigned to pick up Lowe and drive her to Fern Lodge, considered his role in the affair “cheap and disgusting.” Hikes: Wild Basin Trails

THE HIKES Jim’s Grove MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

5.2 Strenuous The spur road to the Longs Peak trailhead is on Colorado Highway 7, south of Estes Park.

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Rocky Mountain National Park Jim’s Grove, East Inlet Trail, Lulu City via Colorado River Trail

DESCRIPTION:

NOTE:

Although Jim’s ghost appeared before Bird while she was in Switzerland, to me, the most “haunting” place associated with the Isabella Bird/Rocky Mountain Jim affair is Jim’s Grove, an enchanting spot on the slopes of Longs Peak. From the East Longs Peak Trail, take the path branching off to the right (northwest). After crossing a footbridge over Alpine Brook, a rocky ascent across the tundra will bring you to the forest of stunted spruce trees where Nugent and Isabella Bird camped. Jim’s Grove is 2.6 miles from the trailhead. Climbing Longs Peak is a popular and dangerous undertaking. Over 60 people have died in their rush to bag the summit. Do your homework if you plan to

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Rocky Mountain National Park Jim’s Grove

climb the mountain while on this hike. Rangers tell me that unless you are an attractive spinster, Jim Nugent’s ghost isn’t going to haul your sorry self up to the peak and back.

East Inlet Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.6 to 15.4 Easy to Strenuous At the southeast corner of Grand Lake, east of Grand Lake Village. The trail is easy at first as it follows the Adams Falls

Rocky Mountain National Park East Inlet Trail

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HAUNTED HIKES Loop (0.6 mile). Interestingly, according to Louisa Arps and Elinor Knigery’s High Country Names of Rocky Mountain National Park, you will pass by the site of an old cabin (no longer standing) along the path to Adams Falls. Years ago, local kids considered the cabin to be a “ghost house.” After passing one of the most scenic falls in the park, the trail enters a lovely meadow before climbing several switchbacks to some cliffs offering inspiring views of Grand Lake. The trail then meets back with East Inlet Creek. The going gets rougher on the way to Lone Pine Lake (5.5 miles oneway) and Spirit Lake (7.7 miles one-way). Spirit Lake is the name Native Americans originally intended for Grand Lake.

Lulu City via Colorado River Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

7.2 Moderate At the Colorado River trailhead, on the west side of Trail Ridge Road, about 10 miles from the Grand Lake Entrance. This hike takes you to a mining ghost town by way of Phantom Creek. A favorite of fishermen, the first two miles offer pleasant walking along the headwaters of the Colorado River. In the meadow north of the junction with the Little Yellowstone Trail, about 3.6 miles from the trailhead, you’ll find scant evidence remaining of Lulu City. One evening, Robert “Squeaky Bob” Wheeler, a turn-of-the-century resort developer, was riding along this route when he and his horse were spooked by the phantom presence of the hundreds of miners, trappers, and other people who lived and worked along this creek during an 1880s gold rush.

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Wild Basin Trails MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

3.6 to 5.5 to 14 Easy to Strenuous Take Colorado Highway 7 south from Estes Park. About 11 miles from town you’ll find the road to the Wild Basin campground, ranger station, and hiker parking lot. The Wild Basin area offers many options for those wanting to visit the scene of a Rocky Mountain conspiracy. I suggest you take the Thunder Lake Trail along North St. Vrain Creek and hike to Calypso Cascades (3.6 miles round-trip), Ouzel Falls (5.5 miles), or Thunder Lake (14 miles).

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

The best hiking weather is mid-July to early September, especially if you plan to hike or climb Longs Peak. Winter snows close down many of the trails but also bring cross-country skiers to Grand Lake.

Contacts ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK: 970-586-1206; www.nps.gov/romo. GRAND LAKE LODGE: 15500 Highway 34 in Grand Lake. 970-627-3967; www.grandlakelodge.com BALDPATE INN: 4900 South Highway 7, seven miles south of Estes Park. 970-586-6151; www.baldpateinn.com STANLEY HOTEL: E. Wonderview Ave., just off Highway 34 in Estes Park. 800-976-1377; www.stanleyhotel.com

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YELLOWSTONE Coulter’s Hell ud pots belch steam and fart sulphur. Geysers flush like toilet bowls. Ominous volcanic bubbles lurk at the bottom of singing lakes. Wildfires leave behind skeleton forests and moving hot springs make “ghost trees.” The largest and most dangerous mammals in North America parade by Winnebagos filled with goggle-eyed tourists. Welcome to Yellowstone—nature’s carnival of freaks. The first white man to see the geyser basin, a trapper named John Coulter, came back with stories of fire and brimstone fountains and giant petrified fish. In 1808, Coulter’s tales were so fantastic, so unfathomable, that people ridiculed the trapper with the nineteenth century equivalent of “yeah right, and monkeys flew out of your butt.” They mocked his “fabrication,” referring to Yellowstone as “Coulter’s Hell.” By the time a group of respected government men, the Washburn Expedition, verified that the trapper’s stories were real, John Coulter was dead. Yellowstone’s first ghost story appeared in Scribner’s Monthly in 1871. It was written by Truman Everts, a member of the Washburn Expedition. In between jobs, Truman Everts signed up to accompany the Washburn party to the unexplored territories of the west. While the expedition was in the Yellowstone area, Everts wandered astray and became separated from his group. For the next 37 days, he wandered the Yellowstone wilderness, searching for the rest of his party. During his “37 days of peril” as he later called it, Everts suffered nature in the worst way. At night, “the shrieking of night-birds; the supernaturally human scream of the mountain lion; and the prolonged howl of the wolf” terrified him. Unable to sleep, he imagined the “blazing eyes of a formidable forest monster” were glaring at him in the darkness. A few weeks into his ordeal, with the blisters on his feet festering and his hip burned from falling into a shallow hot spring, the famished Everts sat on a rock at the summit of a hill to contemplate

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A ghostly counsellor points Truman Everts in the right direction.

what he should do next. Should he hike into a treacherous canyon or do the unthinkable—go back the arduous way he had come? Everts had talked himself into proceeding forward into a vast terrain of “insurmountable difficulties” when something uncanny happened. An old friend of his, an old dead friend of his, suddenly appeared

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Yellowstone’s singing lake.

out of the forest. “Go back immediately,” the apparition said, “There is no food here, and the idea of scaling these rocks is madness.” Everts argued with this counsel, but the spirit advised him to return at once, “it is your only chance” the ghost said. “Put your trust in Heaven. Help yourself and God will help you.” In the days that followed, Everts subsisted on little more than thistle roots and a pigeon wing. The diet took a toll on his will to live, but the presence of his old friend and the supportive voices he heard “seemingly whispered in the air” convinced him to push on. Eventually, Everts was rescued by two trappers who found a starving, skeleton of a man. His friends declared the strange hallucinations insanity, but Everts believed the spirit came “from the throne of the Eternal.” He credited its mysterious protection with keeping him alive under circumstances that have been the death of many others before and since. Hike: Rescue Creek

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The Whispers Moved verts is not the only Yellowstone explorer to hear voices in the winds. Strange noises, sometimes moans, sometimes a low humming, have been heard by many in the vicinity of Yellowstone and Shoshone Lakes. F. H. Bradley of the Hayden Expedition in 1872 first described the phenomena after he heard a “hoarse whine, whose locality and character we could not determine,” near Yellowstone Lake. In 1891, professor Edwin Linton and a team of surveyors were also near the lake when they heard what sounded like the vibrating clang of a harp and “the faint sound of voices answering each other overhead.” The ethereal whispers moved, as Linton described in Science magazine, like “an invisible but comparatively dense body” floating through the air not far above their heads. Professor Linton could not determine the cause for what he guessed were “aerial echoes.” Today, Yellowstone locals call these unexplained phenomena “the singing of the lake.” They describe it as sounding like when you run your finger along the rim of a wine glass, except more metallic. Most attribute the noises to a natural cause. However, scientists have yet to determine exactly how or why the lakes of Yellowstone sing. Hikes: Pelican Creek Nature Trail, Storm Point, Elephant Back Mountain Trail

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Mommy Dearest n the northeast corner of the park, at Mammoth Hot Springs, a short guided walk takes visitors back to the turn of the nineteenth century, when soldiers protected the park from poachers and the Army ran Fort Yellowstone. The isolation and long winters were hard on the brave souls who lived here before the invention of the automobile. One winter in 1899, newspapers reported that Margaret Trischman, a Bozeman wife and mother, had intentionally slashed her own neck with a butcher knife. Mrs. Trischman spent several months in a Montana mental hospital before the doctors declared she had recovered from her insanity. They released Margaret to her husband, George, and within a few short months, George got a new job working as a carpenter at an army

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outpost inside of a brand-new national park. George Trischman’s wife and four children arrived at Fort Yellowstone on May 30, 1899. Unfortunately, the fascinating scenery of Mammoth Hot Springs didn’t serve as a spiritual salve for Mrs. Trischman’s mental health. Within four days of the move, on June 3rd, Margaret Trischman grabbed her youngest child, five-year-old Joseph, and slashed his throat open with a hunting knife, nearly decapitating him in view of his brothers and sisters who ran to the home of a neighbor before their mother could do the same to them. Neighbors found Margaret Trischman at home. She appeared calm and acted as if she had no understanding of what she had just done. They locked Mrs. Trischman up in the Old Guardhouse in Fort Yellowstone (stop 6 on the walking tour) where she stayed for a month before they put her on a train bound for a government hospital in Washington, D.C. Apparently Mrs. Trischman had had her fill of mental hospitals. North of the park, she jumped off the train, landing in the Yellowstone River. The train stopped so the authorities could search for her, but Mrs. Trischman was never found. Whether she was killed or escaped, we will never know. Hike: Fort Yellowstone Walking Tour

The West Wing uring your visit, you may hear the one about the headless bride who haunts the lobby of the Old Faithful Inn. It’s a great story, but don’t be fooled—it’s a tale for the tourists, made up by a bellhop in order to get rid of a pesky reporter. The Old Faithful Inn is the largest log structure in the world. With its gnarled log railings, mounted animal heads, and colossal stone fireplace, the bustling lobby is a suitable setting for a haunting, but the ghosts of Yellowstone prefer a more out-of-the-way location, a quiet corridor in the West Wing the employees call “the Old 300.” For 23 years, Bob Kisthart has worked both as a waiter and a bellhop at Old Faithful Inn, and over that time he has noticed “a real pattern of strangeness” going on in the Old 300. The security guards

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complain that the light bulbs in the Old 300 burn out more quickly than they should and that the fire doors close although magnets are there to keep them open. One housekeeper refused to work that wing after something invisible touched her while she was cleaning one of the rooms. A porter told Krishart that he heard voices coming from a crawl space that was locked from the outside and a sensitive female guest once told him that she felt that “something old” was buried under the stairs. One afternoon, Kisthart walked down the hallway to pick up some bags for a guest moving to another room. He rapped on the door and said, “Bellhop.” From inside the room a woman’s voice replied, “Just a minute.” Kisthart waited and waited and knocked again, but this time there was no response. Eventually, he had to let himself in the room, and was shocked to find that there was no one there. Wow, the bellhop thought, this is that hallway where all the weird stuff happens. A few years later, Kisthart was carrying luggage for a family checking into a room in the Old 300—the last room on the right. As he accompanied them down the corridor, Kisthart talked about normal things, like where to eat dinner, which geysers were giving the best shows, and the best hikes for kids. When they got to the room, the bellhop unlocked the door and then stepped back, allowing the woman and her 8-year-old daughter to enter the room first. “Mom! Mom!” the girl exclaimed as soon as she walked into the room. “Do you feel it? Do you see it?” Kisthart entered the room and set down the bags. The little girl was very excited. She pressed the pads of her index fingers to a spot behind her ears, the bump on our skulls known as the mastoid process, as if that was the place where she sensed whatever it was she was sensing. “Oh Mom, this is a good one!” she said. “Do you see it?” “Yes, dear,” the mother said calmly. “I see it.” Kisthart didn’t see anything. He figured the little girl must have seen a bat or a mouse. But then the mother asked an unsettling question, “Do you know if this room is haunted?” “Why do you ask?” “Because there’s a ghost in this room right now.” “Really?” Kisthart said. “What can you tell me about it?” The woman told him she wasn’t sure, but it was a young spir-

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it, perhaps it was Indian. “Oh, Mom!” the little girl exclaimed. “This is really a good one, isn’t it?” The scene with the eight-year-old psychic stuck in the bellhop’s mind throughout the summer, and when the inn closed that fall, Kisthart decided he had to spend a night in that room. Maybe he, too, would get to see a ghost. Unfortunately, the night the bellhop picked for his investigation into the paranormal was also the night of the employee end-of-season party. In the advanced stages of inebriation, Kisthart bounced down the hallway of the Old 300, stumbled into the last room on the right, and hit the mattress. “That night,” Kisthart says, “A ghost could have been jumping on the bed and I wouldn’t have felt it.”

THE HIKES Rescue Creek MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

7 (one-way) Moderate For a mostly downhill hike, start from the south end, at the Blacktail trailhead (6.6 miles east of the Mammoth Hotel on the Mammoth-Tower Road), and hike northwest to the North Entrance trailhead (about a half mile south of the entrance station). Rescue Creek has been mistakenly named as the place where two men rescued Truman Everts in 1870. (They found him near Tower Creek.) However, the northern section of the Rescue Creek Trail skirts the base of Mount Everts, where Truman Everts camped for several nights during his “days of peril.” Rescue Creek is also one of the best hikes for early summer wildflowers and for spotting wildlife during the early spring or late fall.

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Yellowstone National Park Rescue Creek

Pelican Creek Nature Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

1 Easy At Pelican Creek Bridge (1.5 miles east of Lake Junction). A wooden boardwalk crosses a marshy area as the trail follows the creek through the lodgepole forest, ending at the obsidian sand beach on the shore of Yellowstone Lake. Spend some time here sunset gazing, trout fishing, or bird watching and maybe you’ll hear the lake sing.

Storm Point MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

2 Easy A pullout at Indian Pond, 3 miles east of Fishing Bridge Visitor Center.

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Yellowstone National Park Mirror Lake Loop

DESCRIPTION:

Enjoy views of Yellowstone Lake on this short loop to Storm Point, a good place to listen for whispers in the wind.

Elephant Back Mountain Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3 Moderate Parking is 1 mile south of Fishing Bridge. A steep (800 feet in 1.5 miles) climb through lodgepole forest to an overlook with outstanding views of Yellowstone Lake.

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Yellowstone National Park Storm Point, Elephant Back Mountain Trail

Fort Yellowstone Walking Tour MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.25 Easy Mammoth Hot Springs Visitor Center A self-guided trail through Fort Yellowstone provides information about what life was like here during the early years of North America’s first national park. The tiny body of Joseph Trischman lies under a headstone in the southwest corner of the army cemetery.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Fall, late spring, and early fall.

Contacts YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK: 307-344-7381; www.nps.gov/yell OLD FAITHFUL INN: 307-344-7311

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GLACIER Missing in Glacier ora Whitehead, a recent widow, refused to give up hope. Until someone found their bodies, her sons could still be alive. So she continued to put political pressure on the National Park Service years after Joseph, 29, and William, 22, went missing while hiking in Glacier National Park on August 24, 1924. For many years, the loss of these young men “weighed heavily” on the mind of Charles Kraebel, the park superintendent. Despite their mother’s crusade, the Whiteheads’ disappearance continues to be the most puzzling mystery in the history of the park. By many accounts, the Whitehead brothers had “romantic notions” about the park. How could they not? Even today, Glacier is a magnet for young men and women aching to visit “remote places,” to see “unnamed lakes.” Straddling the border of United States and Canada, Glacier is a taste of the Far North in the Lower 48. It’s a hiker’s park, with over a million acres of wilderness and a long list of icy lakes, blue glaciers, wildflower-filled meadows, and lofty mountains with intriguing names. On August 23, 1924, the Whitehead brothers set out from Granite Park Chalet with the intention of making the trek over Logan Pass to a hotel on the shores of Lake McDonald. Today, the Highline Trail approximates the route the boys took. On the morning of August 24th, a party of horse packers encountered two young men matching the description of Joe and Bill heading south on the trail about two miles from Logan Creek and eight miles from Granite Park. It was the last time the Whitehead brothers were seen. By all accounts, the Whitehead boys were responsible young men who eased their mother’s fears by frequently mailing her letters that insisted they behaved cautiously during their travels. So their mother became worried when September 1st came around and she had not received a letter from her sons since August 17th. She contacted the park service and the search for the missing Whitehead brothers began.

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Glacier “Wanted” poster for the Whiteheads.

The bereaved woman’s letter-writing campaign attracted the attention of President Calvin Coolidge, who sent a telegram telling the rangers to “spare no expense” in the search effort. But after two weeks of intense search efforts, rangers weren’t any closer to knowing the whereabouts of the boys. A large grizzly chased one search party from the vicinity of Hidden Lake, and the bear was suspected of killing the Whiteheads, although many believed that if the boys had been attacked by a grizzly the searchers would have found evidence of such a brutal event. Park officials suspected the boys had been swept away in a swift current while fishing or had fallen in a ravine while traveling cross-country through a landscape riddled with hidden creeks and crevices. “It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack,” one park official reported. When Superintendent Kraebel sent Dora Whitehead a letter

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informing her of the end of the search effort, the mother gave him an angry response. “Only six weeks of searching by the Government for two fine American-born young men . . . Mr. Kraebel, I want my sons— dead or alive . . . My two sons were murdered or kidnapped in a National Park and I am pleading with the Government of the United States to find them.” By November, she had put enough pressure on the government that the F.B.I. took over the investigation under the direction of J. Edgar Hoover. In January of 1925, Dora Whitehead printed 500 circulars offering a $1,700 reward, and the park rangers became inundated with leads to follow. One F.B.I. agent assigned to the case followed up on a lead involving two shady characters, bootleggers Jack McDonald and “Dude” Lockett, who had suspiciously left the area four days after the Whiteheads were last seen. But years later, when a woman claimed that McDonald had told her that he and an unidentified girlfriend had shot the boys and then sunk them in one of the park’s lakes, the F.B.I. did not find the woman’s statement credible. Nor did anyone take seriously the report that the two brothers were running a vaudeville act in Bellingham, Washington. The F.B.I. report concluded that although his theory did not rule out the possibility of criminal attack, the topography of the park made it likely that the boys had strayed from the trail and “met misfortune in a fall.” In March 1926, the case was officially closed, but Dora Whitehead continued to put political pressure on the NPS and the F.B.I., calling the Chicago F.B.I. office at least once a week, maintaining that her boys had been physically abducted from the park and were therefore possibly still alive. Dora Whitehead was certain that, although her adventurous sons had taken a rope with them, they “would not have climbed or changed their itinerary” and were not at risk of falling into crevices. Dora Whitehead was not alone in suspecting foul play. Jerome DeSanto, a writer and former Glacier ranger, researched this case meticulously for his article “Missing in Glacier! The Disappearance of the Whitehead Brothers in 1924.” De Santo speculated it was unlikely that two young men could accidentally disappear without leaving a trace on the relatively well-traveled route they were taking. Hike: Highline Trail

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More Disturbing Disappearances ince 1924, several men have joined the Whiteheads on the park’s Never-To-Be-Seen-Again list. In 1934, Dr. Frederick Lumley vanished on August 13th while hiking from Goat Haunt to Waterton Townsite in Glacier’s sister park across the Canadian border (see the Lakeshore Trail in the chapter on Waterton). David Wilson, a park service employee, never returned to work after signing the climbing register for Going-to-the-Sun Mountain in July 1963. Patrick Whalen left an abandoned campsite in Cut Bank Valley, after ditching his truck alongside Highway 89 sometime in November 2000. And in the summer of 2003, Larry Kimble’s pickup truck was found at the trailhead to Rocky Point, but no sign of Kimble was ever found. Hike: See Lakeshore Trail (Waterton Lakes, Canada)

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THE HIKE Highline Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

11.6 to 15.2 Moderate Logan Pass on Going-to-The-Sun Road. Above timberline for most of its length, the Highline Trail offers sweeping views and a chance to spot mountain goats. The summer wildflower blooms are spectacular, and you will skirt the base of the Garden Wall, a knife-edged ridge growing flowers and huckleberries. If you can get reservations, the Granite Chalet, where the Whitehead boys spent their last night, makes an excellent base from which you can do many top-notch hikes. To make a loop hike, head west from Granite Park on the Loop Trail, which will descend 2,000 feet to the Going-to-the-Sun Road and where you can arrange for a ride back to your car at

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Glacier National Park

Glacier National Park Highline Trail

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Logan Pass. This area can be a grizzly hot spot, so familiarize yourself with the park service bear safety advice before starting your hike.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

May to September.

Contacts GLACIER NATIONAL PARK: 406-888-7800; www.nps.gov/glac GRANITE PARK CHALET: 406-387-5555 or 800-52117238

CANADA AND ALASKA

A Pukaskwa pit, Pukaskwa National Park.

WATERTON LAKES It’s Alive! t lived in a cave on the edge of Canada’s Lake Okanagan. Indigenous artists painted pictures of it on the rocks near the headwaters of Power Creek. The Okanagan called it N’ha-a-itk or “Snake-in-the-lake,” and to appease it, fishermen sacrificed small animals whenever canoeing in the area. In 1872, whites began to see it. It was a monster, a large underwater serpent with dark green scales and a goat’s head. It swam in the waters of Canada’s Okanagan Lake. Eventually, a Vancouver reporter dubbed it “Ogopogo.” Ogopogos have been seen in many Canadian lakes, including Upper Waterton Lake in Waterton Lakes International Peace Park. In their book, Waterton and Glacier In a Snap! Fun Facts and Titillating Trivia, journalists Ray Djuff and Chris Morrison write that “tales of strange creatures in the park lakes abound.” The first sighting was made by the wife of a forest ranger. She was fishing alone in Lake Waterton when she hooked something so scary she dropped the line over the side of the boat and rowed back to shore. Waterton’s Ogopogo has been seen by many people, including private boaters, employees of the Prince of Wales Hotel, and the skipper of Miss Waterton. In 1936, a fisherman caught a strange creature near Waterton Lake. The creature was only three inches long. It looked like a reptile, yet it had a fish-like tail, short feathery gills, and a large animal-shaped head. Sounds suspiciously like a baby Ogopogo to me. Hike: Lakeshore Trail

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THE HIKE Lakeshore Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

7.5 (one-way) Moderate Travel to Waterton Townsite and purchase a ticket ($16) for The International, a wooden ship that has been in service since 1927. The 200-passenger boat will take you over Upper Waterton Lake and across the International Border to the Goat Haunt Ranger Station on the United States side of the park. From mid-May to mid-September, the boat launches three or more times a day. For those who cannot hike, $27 will buy you a round-trip tour. Tickets must be purchased at the boat dock. Bring a passport or photo ID for the border crossing. Since 9/11, U.S. Immigration only allows U.S. and Canadian citizens with photo identification to remain at Goat Haunt and hike. Several trails leave from Goat Haunt, including the highly scenic Lakeshore Trail, which hugs the shoreline on its way back to Waterton Townsite, giving you plenty of opportunities to spot Ogopogos, as well as bald eagles, moose, bears, and mountain goats. A young eccentric, Frederick Lumley, disappeared while hiking this trail in 1934. (See Glacier National Park.)

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

May to September.

Contacts WATERTON LAKES INTERNATIONAL PEACE PARK VISITOR CENTER: 406-888-7800 WATERTON INTERNATIONAL SHORELINE CRUISE: 403-859-2362; www.watertoncruise.com

CANADA AND ALASKA

Wateron Lakes Lakeshore Trail

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BANFF Canadian Spin he Stoney Indians already had a name for the largest lake in Banff National Park. They called it m’nesto or “Cannibal Lake.” But this didn’t look good on the brochures. So, in 1888, the Canadian government renamed the jewel-toned waters Lake Minnewanka, a euphemistic, Disneylandesque title today’s finest political spin masters can appreciate. You see, Minnewanka means “Lake of the Water Spirit,” which sounds pleasant and inviting yet, ever so vaguely, continues to honor the ancient Stoney Indian belief that a giant half-man, half-fish, flesh-eating demon lives in the lake. Lake Minnewanka flows east into the Ghost Lakes and beyond to Devil’s Gap. How did the Ghost Lakes get their names? Well, that depends on who you ask. Some say the ghost of Ghost Lakes was a white mustang the Native Americans could never catch. Another legend claims two Indian tribes fought a battle near where the Ghost and the Bow Rivers meet. Some of the slain were buried on Deadman Hill, and following the battle, a phantom was seen walking up and down the river bank, hard at work at his new hobby—collecting the skulls of dead warriors. Hike: Lake Minnewanka

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Retire Already, Will Ya? hen construction of the behemoth Banff Springs Hotel began in 1888, things got off to a bad start. First, someone misread the blueprints and the building was built backwards. The guest rooms faced a dense forest, while the cooks in the kitchen had the most awesome view of the river. To fix this oversight, a rotunda had to be built to improve the views. Another year, the construction of a new wing produced a room with no doors or windows. The room was sealed up to cover the error and remained hidden until it was discovered after a fire in 1926.

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The Banff Springs Hotel.

When the Banff Springs Hotel first opened, it had 250 rooms and was the largest hotel in the world. The fungus-like growth of the structure continued. Today, the 845-room hotel dominates the already scenic skyline of Banff, and you need a map to find your way around the massive maze of corridors. This mega-lodge costs nearly six-figures a day to run, the staff charges $5 for guided tours, and the suites go for $800 to $1,500 a night. I must confess, the more I studied Banff’s grand hotel, the more I began to wonder that perhaps the scariest thing about the place was how much it would cost me to stay there. But the service is the finest. That’s for certain. In some cases, the staff is so dedicated, even death can’t make them call in sick. By most accounts, bellhop Sam McCauley was a dedicated employee who loved the Banff Springs Hotel, especially the top floor. But Sam became a problem in the end when he insisted on working even after they forced him to retire. They say that the elderly bellhop once told his sons, “When I die, I’m going to come back and haunt this place.” In 1978, two years after Sam McCauley died, guests and staff began to have experiences with an employee who wasn’t on the payroll.

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Front lobby of the Banff Springs Hotel.

One story passed on to journalists was the tale of two ladies locked out of their room. The ladies called down to the front desk. A young man was sent to help them, but when he arrived, the ladies were already in their room. The women told the young man that the elderly bellhop with the white hair had already let them in. The young man said, “But we don’t have an elderly bellhop with white hair.” Other Sam stories include a business woman who checked out after she saw an apparition in the corner of her suite, and an employee who was drinking in the bar after his shift, when an unseen person knocked his one-for-the-road cocktail out of his hand. That night the employee was pulled over by a Mountie on his way home. Thus, the protective ghost is credited with saving the employee from a D.U.I. arrest. Many people have claimed to have experienced something unexplained while staying at Banff, and just as many people have accused staff and managers of making up ghost stories to promote the

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hotel. They say one employee went so far as to pull luggage down the corridors with fishing line to make it look like the suitcases were moving on their own. It is true that several of the hotel’s managers have promoted Sam stories in the past, but the current public relations director apparently didn’t attend the ghosts-are-good-for-business marketing seminar. Recently, it has been suggested that the staff have been issued “gag orders” prohibiting them from talking to the press about the hotel’s paranormal occurrences. But Sam stories continue to creep out of the Banff Springs Hotel, and guests still hear the floors creak and groan. Gag orders or not, there are things no amount of public relations spin can change. Hotel managers may come and go, and marketing strategies may change with the seasons, but the bellhop never retires. Hike: Tunnel Mountain

THE HIKES Lake Minnewanka MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: ACCESSIBILITY: DESCRIPTION:

1 to 30-plus Easy The parking lot just north of the dam near the end of Lake Minnnewanka Road. Bicycles The scenery and the relatively easy terrain make this a popular hike for hikers as well as mountain bikers. Head north from the parking lot along the road and past the gate. The road eventually turns into a path. After crossing a massive wooden bridge, you’ll reach a trail junction at the mouth of Stewart Canyon. Stay on the wider main trail, which skirts the shore of the lake. The trail will head left, seemingly in the wrong direction, before it heads back to the lake. One hill near the beginning is the hardest for mountain bikers to climb, but once you get that out of the way, the trail becomes

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HAUNTED HIKES one of the best singletracks around. Lake Minnewanka is the largest body of water in Banff, and this is a long trail. Pick a destination that suits your time and fitness requirements. From the trailhead, Stewart Canyon is 1.4 km, Alymer Pass junction is 8.3 km, the ranger station is 16.5 km, the end of the lake is 24 km, and Devil’s Gap is 27.2 km.

Tunnel Mountain MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

3 Moderate From the parking area on St. Julien Road. Expect a short but steep climb as you circle the mountain, seeing different perspectives on your way to the summit. At the top you’ll get an excellent bird’s-eye view of the park and an incomparable view of the Banff Springs Hotel.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

May through October.

Contacts BANFF NATIONAL PARK: 403-762-1550; www.pc.gc.ca/pn-np/ab/banff BANFF SPRINGS HOTEL: 800-441-1414 BANFF-LAKE LOUISE RESERVATION SERVICE: 800-661-1676

CANADA AND ALASKA

Banff National Park Lake Minnewanka, Tunnel Mountain

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NAHANNI A Nasty Piece of Water n Canada’s Northwest Territory, hidden deep within the heart of the Mackenzie Mountains, the South Nahanni, a world renowned whitewater river, roars through a 4,000-foot-deep gorge into a “valley of vanishing men.” The Nahanni gets its name from the Nahas, a tribe of mountain-dwelling indigenous people, feared by early settlers and Indian tribes of the lowlands. The Nahas, according to oral histories, suddenly and mysteriously disappeared by the time the gold rush brought prospectors to the area. The Nahas vanished, but their reputation did not. For hundreds of years, Indians, miners, and explorers have frightened each other with tales of haunted valleys and cursed gold, protected by a tribe of mountain people who will kill any man venturing into the Nahanni. But it wasn’t until 1908 that the Nahanni legend earned its prominence in the history books. As the story goes, brothers Willie and Frank McLeod entered Nahanni territory to mine for gold and never came out. Two years after his brothers had disappeared, Charlie McLeod went searching for them. In 1908, he found the McLeods’ camp. Willie and Frank were dead in their sleeping bags. On a split sledge runner nearby someone had penciled a message: “We have found a fine prospect.” Yet theft did not appear to be the killer’s motive. The murderer had taken no valuables, unless you count the McLeods’ heads. In morbid honor of the decapitated men, the scene of the crime was given the name it bears to this day—Headless Creek. The Royal Mounted Police concluded that the McLeods died from starvation and accused hungry animals of running off with the miners’ skulls. But others believed the McLeods had fallen prey to the Nahanni curse. In either case, no story is horrifying enough to cure the greed for gold. So the discovery of any dead miners along the Nahanni continued to feed the legend. Around 1910, a prospector in search of the McLeods’ lost mine claimed that he had “struck it rich.” Two years

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later, his bleached bones were found by his partner, Poole Field. According to Field, he found his partner’s cabin burned to the ground. His friend’s bones were near a water bucket, as if he’d been walking down to the river for some water when he saw something that scared him, dropped his bucket, and was killed while running back to the cabin for his rifle, which was never found. More than 20 years later, the Mounties were scouring the Nahanni for yet another missing miner, when they discovered yet another burned cabin. Next to this cabin was the charred skeleton of a trapper named Phil Powers. All evidence indicated the miner’s cabin had burned down during the early winter of 1931. However, nailed to one of the uprights was a perplexing note: “Phil Powers finished Aug., 1932,” a date more than six months after the cabin appeared to have burned. Over the years, several miners, bush pilots, and river runners have drowned, starved, or disappeared while in the land of the Nahas. Today, the names of landmarks such as Deadmen Valley, Broken Skull River, Cirque of the Unclimbables, and Funeral Range give us a not-sosubtle hint about the dangerous potential of the Nahanni. Hike: South Nahanni River

THE HIKE South Nahanni River MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

ACCESSIBILITY: DESCRIPTION:

N/A N/A Accessible only by float plane from Fort Simpson, as Nahanni National Park has no roads. Getting to this genuine wilderness park is not going to be easy or cheap. I suggest you take advantage of the many licensed outfitters and river guides who know how to float the Nahanni without losing their heads. Water Route Contact one of the tour companies listed below for

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Nahanni South Nahanni River

package deals. Most trips include several opportunities for hiking, a stop at Headless Valley, and campfire tales about the Nahanni curse. You should make reservations well in advance. Though the cost of a five-day river trip is steep, this once-in-a-lifetime experience in the Far North ought to make the journey worth the price. Less than 600 people travel the river each year.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

July and August.

Contacts NAHANNI NATIONAL PARK PRESERVE: 867-695-3151; www.pc.gc.ca/pn-np/nt/nahanni River Guide Companies: NAHANNI RIVER ADVENTURES: 800-297-6927; www.nahanni.com BLACKFEATHER, THE WILDERNESS ADVENTURE COMPANY: 888-849-7668; www.blackfeather.com NAHANNI WILDERNESS ADVENTURES: 888-897-5223; www.nahcnwiwild.com

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KLONDIKE GOLD RUSH/ CHILKOOT TRAIL A Cozy Night By the Fire There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold —From “The Cremation of Sam McGee” by Robert Service he Sam McGee from Tennessee in Robert Service’s famous poem is a fictional character, but the gruesome tale was inspired by a real event experienced by Dr. Sugdren, Service’s former roommate. Dr. Sugdren was called out to care for a sick prospector one night, but when the doctor arrived, he found the man frozen stiff. In the real story, Sugdren cremated the dead miner in the boiler of the Olive May, a steamer trapped in the ice between Whitehorse and Chilkoot Pass. In the poem, the narrator opens the door to the furnace, looks inside, and sees the ghost of Sam McGee sitting comfortably amid the roaring flames. The apparition asks the narrator to please shut the door; he’s letting in the cold, and this is the warmest he has been since he left Tennessee.

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The Licking Frog ou could say the Klondike Gold Rush, the second biggest gold rush in American history, began on August 17, 1896, the day three men, one white and two Indians, danced a happy jig around the pan of gold they had just sifted out of a creek in northwest Canada. But this fortuitous find may have never happened if not for two dreams and a trapped frog.

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The Dyea Cemetery at the start of the Chilkoot Trail.

In June of 1896, George Carmack had a wonderful dream. He was sitting on a bank of a small stream looking into a pool of bluegreen water when two large salmon swam into view. The scales of the salmon were shiny flakes of gold, and gold pieces covered their eyes. Carmack took this dream as prophecy. He was going to find gold in a blue-green creek inhabited by salmon. Heeding the dream, Carmack and his partners moved their search for gold away from the muddy Yukon and toward the jewel-toned tributaries of the Klondike River. George Carmack was white. Skookum Jim was a Tlingit Indian. The two men met in Dyea (pronounced Die-ee), a small community at the base of the Chilkoot Trail. Carmack married Jim’s sister, Kate. Along with Carmack’s wife and Jim’s friend Dawson Charlie, Carmack and Jim worked as packers to ferry goods across the Chilkoot Pass. Two years before Carmack dreamed about the golden salmon, Skookum Jim experienced something even more surreal. While walking through the forest near his home in Dyea, Jim found a frog trapped in a hole. He shoved a board down into the hole, and the frog used the board to crawl out. The next summer, a drunk kicked Jim in the stom-

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ach, and Jim became deathly ill. His abdomen festered, and an open sore surfaced on the skin above his stomach. Bedridden and fevered, Jim took the bandages off his wound to air it out. Soon, he felt something tickling him. He lifted his shirt. A frog was licking his sore. A relative removed the frog and carried it down to the creek where she released it, giving the amphibian some feathers and beads “to pay it.” Two or three days after the frog licked his wound, Skookum Jim recovered. Months later, while camping along the shores of Crag Lake, Skookum Jim had a dream. A nice looking lady, who shined like gold, told Jim that when she had been starving and was about to die, he had saved her. So “I saved you,” the gold woman said. “I helped you. I medicined you. That’s why you got better.” The gold woman then pointed her golden staff toward Dawson City. “You go this way,” she said, “and you’re going to have luck.” A year after Skookum Jim’s dream, he and George Carmack were panning the blue-green waters of an unnamed stream when they discovered the richest gold deposit in the region. Over the next four years, the two men and their partner, Dawson Charlie, would split nearly a million dollars into three equal shares. The stories of Skookum Jim’s relationship with the frog are recorded as part of the oral history of the Tlingit and Tagish people. To them, the amphibious frog is a shaman animal, a dweller of two worlds, just as likely to bestow bad fortune as to offer good luck to those it encounters. “We’re told never to bother them,” Ida Calmegane explained to a researcher when they saw a frog while hiking near Dyea. “Anytime we see them, we just leave them alone. They say, if you bother them, it gives you bad luck.”

The Meanest 33 Miles in History hen word of the Klondike discovery hit the papers, hordes of people rushed to Seattle, Washington and boarded boats bound for Skagway, Alaska. Historians estimate that at least 30,000 people made the journey to Skagway during the two-year gold rush. Many of these people intended to reach the Yukon via the arduous Chilkoot Trail.

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To get over the Chilkoot Pass one must ascend the Golden Stairs, little steps cut into the snow that climbed 1,000 feet in less than two miles. Crossing the pass once was not enough. At the border, Canadian Mounties enforced regulations requiring prospectors to bring enough gear and food to survive the winter, about 1,500 pounds, before they could enter the country. This forced the average stampeder to cross the pass 20 times in order to carry enough food and supplies to Lake Linderman, where they had to build boats in order to haul all that gear down the Yukon River. Any relief the stampeders felt once they made it over the pass was short-lived. On the Canadian side was the start of another grueling gauntlet of boat building and rapid running along a moody river. One stampeder, John Matthews, foundered two boats on two separate occasions, losing two prospecting outfits to the rapids between Lake Linderman and Lake Bennett. “My God!” the frustrated Matthews said after losing his gear for the second time, “What will happen to Jane and the babies?” Then he put a pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. Matthews is buried along the trail not far from where he committed suicide. His grave is difficult to find, but hikers walk right past it as they approach Lake Bennett. Park historian Karl Guerke estimates that at least 200 people died while traversing the Chillkoot Trail during the years of 1897–1898. Many died in accidents or by disease. Some froze to death. Some disappeared. Some were murdered. Many were buried where they fell. Desperate stampeders left behind so many artifacts along the route, that the Chilkoot Trail is known as “the world’s longest museum.” Even today, hikers find boots, wagon wheels, sleds, pulleys, and cables discarded by the gold-obsessed stampeders who embarked on this maniacal march over 100 years ago. In Dyea, buried under a tombstone marked “Noscitur —Shot in the mountains May 1st 1898,” is the body of a stampeder with a .44 calibre bullet hole in the back of his skull. Theft appeared to be the motive since the man’s pocket watch had been taken. For nearly a week, the victim’s body was displayed in the undertaker’s room, and all the townspeople were asked to view it in hopes that someone would identify the man. Eventually, the town buried the body in the Slide Cemetery. They marked his tombstone Noscitur, Latin for “Unknown.”

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But the most awful tragedy, the one that filled up Dyea’s little cemetery, took place a month earlier, on April 3, 1898. Native Americans and the seasoned “sourdoughs” knew the Chilkoot was to be avoided whenever heavy snowstorms were followed by warm spring winds. They A storm brews over the Chilkoot Trail. warned the “cheechakos” of the dangers, but the newbie prospectors were too hungry for gold to listen. It was Palm Sunday, and the prospectors continued their ant-like crawl to the pass. That morning, the steep slopes let loose a gigantic wave of snow. Entire families were taken out by the avalanche. While digging to rescue the trapped, the surviving stampeders heard the victims’ hysterical screams fade to calm conversations and grow weaker and weaker until they stopped forever. By April 15th, 50 bodies had been pulled from the snow. Many of the victims are buried in the cemetery in Dyea. In 1898, the White Pass & Yukon Railway, a vintage narrowgauge railroad running between Skagway and Bennett, was built to serve the mines of the Klondike, and the deadly era of the Chilkoot Trail ended as suddenly as it had begun. Today, Chilkoot hikers use the White Pass railway to return to Skagway after hiking over the pass. The National Park Service website offers informative reading on the Chilkoot’s rich and troubling history. Be sure to check out Ranger Tim’s top 10 list on how NOT to prepare for the Chilkoot Trail. My favorite is Number Two: Thinking “30,000 stampeders did it 100 years ago . . . it can’t be that bad!” Hikes: Chilkoot Trail, The Slide Cemetery

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And You Thought Swallowing the Worm Was Gross limbing up and over Chilkoot Pass will definitely cause a few more hairs to sprout on your chest, but if you really want to prove yourself gnarly, you need to venture even deeper into the Yukon, all the way to Dawson City, where you can bust through the doors of the Sourdough Saloon, slap your money on the bar, and order a Sour Toe Cocktail. According to the Sour Toe Cocktail Club website, a miner/rum runner who smuggled booze across the Canadian Border via the Chilkoot Pass had to amputate his big toe when it became frostbitten in the 1920s. The miner preserved his toe in a jar filled with alcohol. Many years later, the toe was discovered in the miner’s cabin by Captain Dick Stevenson who, in 1973, came up with a bizarre marketing idea involving the toe—the Sour Toe Cocktail Club. The original Sour Toe Cocktail was a beer glass filled with champagne in which floated the miner’s toe. To join the club you had to drink the entire glass of champagne and your lips had to touch the toe. Swallowing the digit was seriously frowned upon. The tradition nearly ended in 1980, when a miner trying for the sour toe record accidentally swallowed the toe on his thirteenth glass. Fortunately, a series of real human toes which have been dehydrated and preserved in salt (some were donated by anonymous doctors) are now used for this lovely Yukon tradition.

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Klondike Ghosts any historic buildings in Skagway are haunted, including the second floor of the City Municipal Building which was used as a courtroom during the early 1900s. The most celebrated Skagway spook is “Mary” at the Golden North Hotel. Mary is said to be a young woman who died of pneumonia while staying in the hotel, waiting for her fiancée to return from his climb over Chilkoot Pass. A few guests staying in Room 23 of this three-story hotel have complained of being woken up by “choking sensations” in the middle of the night, and many others have reported seeing a female ghost or a floating orb of light moving from room to room.

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The Red Onion Saloon, a former bordello, seems a likely place to find dead stampeders looking for company, and indeed, incidents of unexplained phenomena are common there. One night, as reported in a Skagway News police blotter, employees called the police after hearing unaccounted for footsteps upstairs. When the cops arrived, they heard someone running on the floor above. The policemen sprinted upstairs but never saw anyone or anything to account for the noise. One officer saw a shadow enter a room at the end of the hall, but when he entered the room, nothing was there.

THE HIKES Chilkoot Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

33 Strenuous This trail requires nearly as much dedication to get to it as it does to hike it. The ferry ride up Alaska’s Inside Passage to Skagway isn’t cheap and a permit to do the entire trail costs $55. (Only 50 people are allowed to cross the pass per day. Permits can be reserved in advance for a $10 fee.) From Skagway, you can arrange for a taxi ride to the trailhead. The trail begins at the Taiya River bridge near the Dyea town site, ninemiles from Skagway. Put this one in the “Do Your Homework” category. Hazards along the Chilkoot include bears, hypothermia, insects, and rock slides, but, I’m happy to say, very few recreational hikers have died while hiking the route. Let’s keep it that way. Most hikers travel northbound, just as the stampeders did. A northbound hiker starts from Skagway/Dyea, hikes over the pass to Bennett, where she catches the train back to Skagway.

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Northbound hikers must register at the Trail Center in Skagway prior to starting their hikes. Photo identification or a passport will be required to cross the border.

The Slide Cemetery MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.25 Easy Dyea Townsite, outside of Skagway. If the Chilkoot sounds a little too hairy for you, do a historic walking tour of Skagway or Dyea. Rangers conduct guided tours at least twice daily, May through September. Stop by the Skagway Visitor Center on 2nd and Broadway for current times and locations.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

June and July bring crowds and cruise ships to Skagway. Early season hikers will climb mostly over snow. Most people hike the trail in July or August, when the grueling ascent to the pass is mostly over rock.

Contacts KLONDIKE GOLD RUSH NATIONAL PARK: 907-983-2921; www.nps.gov/klgo SKAGWAY TRAIL CENTER: 907-983-2046 GOLDEN NORTH HOTEL: On 3rd and Broadway: 907-983-2294 TRAIN INFORMATION: 800-343-7373, 907-343-7373

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PUKASKWA Cooked Bone Marrow National Park he park’s name—Pukaskwa—could mean anything from “safe harbor,” to “eaters of fish,” or even “something evil.” Or, as some cultural historians claim, Pukaskwa could be a corruption of the Indian word Pukasu, a verb for a meat cooking technique you’ll probably never see on the Food Channel. To pukasu is to throw the carcass of an animal onto an open fire and cook it until the remaining meat is burned away and the bone marrow is ready to eat. Legend says a native man killed his wife and burned her body in a fire until nothing but bones remained. The murderous husband did not suck the marrow from his wife’s bones, but he did toss them into the water at the mouth of the river we now call Pukasu or Pukaskwa. Located on the rocky north shore of Lake Superior, Pukaskwa is Ontario’s only wilderness park. The dense boreal forests are considered Windigo territory (see Isle Royale for more on this cannibalistic spirit) and the frigid waters of Lake Superior are prime Pressie habitat (see Pictured Rocks for more on the Ojibway lake monster). In November 1975, a lighthouse keeper watched the Edmund Fitzgerald as it passed by Otter Island before the doomed ship met its stormy fate. Otter Island lore also includes a story about an assistant keeper who fell to his death on the steps to the keeper’s house. The lighthouse keeper stored his assistant’s body in a room inside his house until a boat came to pick it up. In order to keep the body frozen, the keeper had to do without a warming fire for two weeks. The most enigmatic of the park sights are the “Pukaskwa pits.” These stone shelters were built 5,000 to 10,000 years ago. The circular pits consist of rock walls up to nine feet long and four feet high. The strange structures may have been built by ancestors of the Ojibway, but archeologists don’t know for sure who built them or why. Hike: Pukaskwa Coastal Trail

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A Pukaskwa pit.

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THE HIKE Pukaskwa Coastal Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:


9.3 to 37 Moderate to Extreme Begins at Hattie Cove, at the end of Highway 627, 20 miles south of Marathon, Ontario. For a one-way trip, arrange for a ferry to drop you off at the North Swallow River. Water Route A true Canadian wilderness experience, this trek along the Pukaskwa coast requires proper planning, stamina, and self-reliance. You are more likely to see a bear or a moose than another hiker during the four to eight days it takes to hike the entire route from Hattie Cove to the North Swallow River. Or you can do the shorter (9.3 miles) hike to the White River Suspension Bridge. Every six miles or so there are campsites near beaches and bays that provide bear food storage lockers. Rangers require that you register at the ranger station before starting your trek. Some choose to kayak the shoreline instead.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Summer and fall for kayakers. Early fall for hikers. Bugs are vicious during the spring and summer.

Contacts PUKASKWA NATIONAL PARK

CANADA: 705-856-2939; www.pc.gc.ca/pn-np/on/pukaskwa Purchase a trail guide by calling the park at 807-229-0801, ext 242. NATURALLY SUPERIOR ADVENTURES (kayak tours): 800-203-9092; www.naturallysuperior.com OF

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Phantom campfires are seen burning on Crater Lake’s Wizard Island.

REDWOOD Trees that Bleed he tallest is 367 feet in height. The oldest has lived nearly 2,000 years. They stay thinner and die younger than the Giant Sequoias of the Sierra Nevada, but they are still the tallest living things in the world. Yurok Indians believe wood from the majestic Coastal Redwoods is too sacred to be used for anything other than houses or boats. Their legends tell of trees that bleed red. To the Yuroks, redwoods contain living spirits that remain in the wood long after the tree has been cut. For this reason, Yurok-made dugout canoes will have a knob protruding from the boat. This knob gives the tree’s spirit a place to live. It is the heart of the boat. Without it the canoe is vulnerable to evil; it could become a devil boat. A fine example of a Yurok dugout can be seen at the Kuchel information center south of Orick. Carved in the floor of this boat are wooden symbols of human anatomy—a heart, a pair of lungs, and two kidneys. When you hike through the redwood forests, look for trees that have had their bark torn off by hungry bears, who like to eat the moist inner bark or cambium layer of the tree. The sap oozing from the red cambium resembles fresh blood.

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I Was a Teenage Sasquatch he impenetrable terrain has kept a few patches of these fantastic forests safe from the lumberman’s ax long enough for conservationists to protect them. Some say the rugged landscape has hidden more than trees from the exploitative eyes of man. Some say these prehistoric forests of surreal proportion—colossal tree trunks, head high ferns, and banana slugs—are the perfect habitat for an elusive

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humanoid over seven feet tall, weighing more than 400 pounds, and smelling like rotten garbage. Redwood Park is Bigfoot country. The most famous sighting occurred on state land on August 28, 1995, when a Los Angeles television crew accompanied by Playboy Playmate Anna Marie Goddard filmed a strange creature crossing the road in front of their R.V. The tape, which Bigfoot investigators refer to as “The Redwoods Video,” shows a blurry and dark image of a 7.5-foot-tall creature walking on two legs and swinging its arms. At first, the cameramen assume they are seeing a bear—until they turn on the high beams and, in response to the bright lights, a Sasquatch turns to give the video crew a dirty look before it disappears behind a redwood tree. Experts say the “Redwood Video” is a hoax, but the forests in and around Redwood National and State Parks are still a Sasquatch hotspot. Many sober witnesses, including wildlife biologists and forest rangers, have seen and heard animals that seem not quiet human and not quiet bear. Red eyes glaring at them from the darkness. Something stinky crashing through the tree branches. Big furry blurs disappearing into the quivering ferns. There are many Redwood sightings recorded on the Bigfoot Research Organization website (www.bfro.net). My favorite is the report of a teenage bigfoot who covered a backcountry horse camp with toilet paper from the outhouse just before he was seen drinking from the creek by a woman on horseback. Two big, brown, furry things frequently seen in the area are Roosevelt elks and black bears. Before you call a ranger to report that you’ve seen a “bigfoot” scratching his back against a tree, you should rule out those two species first. You may find a few park rangers who aren’t fans of the Bigfoot myth. To their way of thinking, the park’s “real” wildlife is more deserving of your appreciation. But the kids love Bigfoot. While researching this book, I was browsing the book shelves inside a Redwoods visitor center when I overheard an argument between a nine-year-old and his older brother. The older boy was teasing the younger one about something dangerous in the park. “Bigfoot is not supposed to be scary!” the younger boy insisted. Hike: Redwood Creek Trail

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THE HIKE Redwood Creek Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:


5 or more Easy to Moderate From Orick, follow Highway 101 north for one mile to Bald Hills Road. Turn east and drive a quarter-mile to the trailhead parking lot at the Redwood Creek Picnic Area. Be sure to remove all valuables from your car. This lot is haunted by vehicle break-ins. Kids The rich soil along Redwood Creek has produced some of the tallest trees in the park. During the summer,

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HAUNTED HIKES when the weather is nice, this hike is perfect for introducing kids or beginners to backpacking. The first 1.5 miles of this trail are easy as you stroll by cavernous tree trunks and berry-loaded bushes. If you have a permit, set up your base camp here on the gravel beds anywhere along the large creek as soon as you reach the first bridge. (Stream crossings may be hazardous during winter and spring months.) About 3.5 miles in, you pass the spur trail to Elam Horse Camp, where the horseback rider saw the juvenile delinquent bigfoot in 1994. If you have time, extend your hike to the Tall Trees Grove, home of the tallest tree in the world.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Anytime; it rains all year.

Contact REDWOOD NATIONAL PARK: 707-464-6101; www.nps.gov/rewo

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OREGON CAVES Bigfoot Encounter on the Big Tree Trail nly 488 acres in size, Oregon Cave National Monument is a small park with big things inside it. Underground lies one of the world’s largest marble caves. Above ground grows an impressive old growth forest of supersize trees, including Oregon’s biggest Douglas Fir. On July 1, 2000, Matthew Johnson, a licensed psychologist who had recently moved to Oregon from Alaska, brought his wife and three kids to Oregon Caves. First they enjoyed a picnic lunch at one of the park’s many picnic tables, and then they took a ranger-guided tour of the cavern. The Johnsons followed the ranger down into the belly of the beast, descending a total of 526 steps while they learned intriguing trivia about the cave’s formations. For example, did you know that “moonmilk,” a cave formation the color and consistency of cream cheese, has anti-bacterial properties? Pioneers used it as a poultice for wounds. Back then, people believed moonmilk was made by cave gnomes, but now, as the rangers like to say on their tours, we don’t believe that anymore, because, of course, moonmilk is made by space aliens. If anyone bothered to ask that day, the ranger may have told the Johnsons about the only person who has died in Oregon Cave. Back in the early 1900s, fearing some shady characters he had seen hanging about, a man brought a firearm into the cave. While traversing the

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Oregon Cave souvenir.

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slimy marble inside the Banana Room (of all places!), the man slipped and fell. The gun flew out of his pants, hit the ground, and went off, sending a bullet into his skull. He died in the arms of his wife, in the chilly darkness, before the others could get him out. Blinking in the bright sun outside the cave entrance, the Johnsons decided to continue their Oregon Caves adventure by embarking on a hike to see the Big Tree. The climbing was steady as the trail wound its way deeper into the forest. About a mile into their hike, the entire Johnson family began to detect a horrible odor, like vomit mixed with rotting fish. A few minutes later, Johnson heard a faint “whoawhoa-whoa” sound, but he dismissed the strange noise, thinking it was the beat of his poorly-exercised heart pounding in his temples as he forced himself up the hill. But the noise kept getting louder. “Do you guys hear that sound?” Johnson asked. His entire family nodded. Yes. They heard the sound. Louder and louder, and closer and closer, it sounded like something big was following them. The excitement and the exertion of the hike had stimulated Jonhson’s digestive system, so he stopped his family on the trail and told them to be quiet while he entered the woods to relieve himself. Squatting in the forest above the trail, the psychologist looked down the slope. Below him, he saw a large animal move from behind one tree to another as if it wanted to get a better look at the woman and three kids standing on the trail below. Johnson had seen many bears while living in Alaska. He’d even been chased by a grizzly. But this was no bear. It walked upright on two legs, it was eight feet tall, and it was spying on his family! Johnson jerked up his shorts and ran back to the trail. Not wanting to frighten the kids, he didn’t tell them what he’d seen. Later, he pulled his wife aside and told her. Johnson’s wife did not think her husband was crazy. She, too, had heard the sounds. The Johnsons rushed their kids past the Big Tree and back to civilization as fast as they could. At the visitor center, Johnson handed the kids some money and sent them off to the gift shop. Then he and his wife contemplated what they should do next. If he told his story to a ranger, he would face ridicule. But he knew what he had heard, smelled, and seen. He was not crazy. Besides, the people have a right to know. There was a Bigfoot in Oregon Caves National Park.

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Park ranger at the entrance to Oregon Cave.

At Park Headquarters, a female ranger took Johnson’s statement. Johnson showed her his business card. He was an educated man. He had two Master’s and a Ph.D.! He was not crazy! The ranger told him to relax. She didn’t think he was crazy. There is a lot in the world we don’t know, she said. We are discovering new species all the time. In front of the lady ranger, Johnson burst into tears. “You don’t know how vulnerable I felt,” he writes on www.oregonbigfoot.com. “Being so far out in the woods without the ability to protect my family.” Johnson’s story was reported in newspapers nationwide. Three weeks later, an intrepid party of bigfoot investigators and reporters hiked the path with a ranger, but no evidence to confirm or deny the sighting was found. One bigfoot researcher noted that he didn’t think Oregon Caves was good Sasquatch habitat. Hike: Big Tree Loop

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The Oregon Caves Chalet, part of a complex that also includes the Chateau and a gift shop.

Park Poltergeist onstructed in 1934, the Oregon Caves Chateau is an appropriately rustic inn. Straddling a ravine and sided with tree bark, this lodge has everything any park visitor could want: an art gallery, a fine restaurant with an impressive wine list, a bubbling waterfall just outside the lobby window, a 1930s-style coffee shop serving homemade ice cream, dark corridors with creaking floors, and a female poltergeist on the third floor. They say Elizabeth, the poltergeist, killed herself at the Chateau sometime in 1937, after she returned early from her hike and discovered her husband’s infidelity with a housekeeper. The National Park Service has no documentation of such an event occurring. Nevertheless, several members of the staff have seen things that have turned them into believers. If something suddenly falls off of a shelf and breaks, if folded laundry inexplicably becomes unfolded, if water faucets come on after being turned off, if the grand piano in the lobby

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Elizabeth’s favorite room at the Oregon Caves Chalet.

starts to play by itself, if the guests in Suite 309–310 complain that they woke up in the middle of the night because they felt an invisible entity sitting on their bed, Elizabeth is the first to be blamed.

THE HIKE Big Tree Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

3 Moderate From Cave Junction, head west to the end of Highway 46. The trail begins on the backside of the archway next to the park visitor center. Leave civilization behind as you climb this trail into

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Oregon Caves Big Tree Loop

the dark old growth forest. About 1.5 miles into your hike you’ll reach the Big Tree, a huggable old fir that is 160 feet tall, 13 feet in diameter, and nearly 1,000 years old. For a longer hike, this trail connects with others, such as the Old Williams Trail, leading into the Siskiyou National Forest Trail and to the alpine meadows at Bigelow Lakes.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

You can hike the Big Tree Trail all year, and when it is covered in snow, you can snowshoe it. The cave is closed during the winter months. The Chateau is open May through October.

Contacts OREGON CAVES NATIONAL PARK: 541-592-2100; www.nps.gov/orca OREGON CAVES CHALET: 541-592-4400 OREGON CAVES CHATEAU: 541-592-3400

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MOUNT RAINIER A Mountain of Secrets azard Stevens and Philemon Van Trump wanted the summit, but Sluiskin, their Nisqually guide, refused to take them above timberline. Many years ago, Sluiskin’s grandfather attempted to reach the peak of this mountain, the one his people called Takhoma. Before reaching the summit, Sluiskin’s grandfather came upon a lake of fire and an “infernal demon coming to destroy him.” In great fear, Sluiskin’s grandfather fled down the mountain. After that, no Indian dared to climb the peak. “The mighty demon of Takhoma will surely kill you and throw you into the fiery lake,” Sluiskin warned the white men. “Don’t go! Don’t go!” But Stevens and Van Trump were determined to continue, with or without their Indian guide. Native Americans viewed Takhoma as the most dreadful mountain of the Pacific Northwest. The mountain’s personality, according to their mythology, was that of a disgruntled, scorned wife who sucked people into her cave-like stomach and devoured them. But the moody Takhoma must have been in a charitable mood in 1870, the year she permitted two white men, Stevens and Van Journalist Joe Wood disappeared while hiking this trail in 1996. Trump, to make the first

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Hiker enters the shadowy realm of an old growth forest.

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documented ascent of her summit. Two days after Sluiskin had last seen them, the white mountaineers returned to their base camp. Tattered, tired, and bleeding from their perilous trip, they approached their Nisqually guide, and Sluiskin stared at them, open mouthed, “as if to see whether we were real flesh and blood or disembodied ghosts fresh from the evil demon of Tahkoma.” Rainier continues to live up to its ancient reputation. More than 370 people have died in the park and the mountain refuses to give up the bodies of 65 of them. Among the bodies never recovered are 32 marines who were killed when their plane crashed into the mountain in 1946, a 23-year-old park ranger who was lost in a blizzard in 1974, and 11 climbers who were buried in an avalanche on Father’s Day 1981. Rainier was also in a surly mood on July 8, 1999, the day a young journalist from New York set out to hike the Van Trump Trail with a pair of binoculars around his neck and an Audubon guide to birds in his backpack. After attending a journalism conference in Seattle, Joe Wood, a 34-year-old African-American editor and former Eagle Scout, rented a car and drove to Rainier. While hiking to Mildred Point, Wood stopped to chat with another hiker on the trail. The two men shared bird watching stories—Wood had just spotted a western tanager—and the other hiker warned Wood of the dicey stream crossing up ahead. Two days later, a friend reported Wood as missing. Park rangers found the journalist’s rental car in the trailhead parking lot. An intense five-day search operation failed to turn up any signs of the missing bird-watcher. Although Wood was last seen hiking in one of the more benign areas of the park, many believe he must have wandered off the trail and died of exposure or fallen into a hard to reach place. But since he was the first black man to disappear in the history of a rural park, there are some who suspect the vanishing could have been the result of something more sinister. The disappearance of Joe Wood continues to be one of Rainier’s great mysteries. As his mother stated to a reporter for the Seattle Post, “How is it possible that a person who goes out for an afternoon of bird watching just vanishes into thin air?” Hike: Van Trump/Mildred Point

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Three Murders; Two Unsolved f the three confirmed murders that have happened at Rainier, two of them remain unsolved. In 1987, the body of a man was found along Highway 123 in the southeast corner of the park. He had been shot in the head in what looked like a drug-related crime. The identities of the murderer and of the victim remain unknown. On October 5, 1996, Sheila Kearns, a housekeeper at the Longmire Inn, got off work, ate dinner in the employee dining room, walked out of the building, and disappeared. Her remains were found seven months later, near the old Longmire Campground. F.B.I. forensic experts determined that Kearns had been stabbed at least three times. Despite the $30,000 reward offered for information leading to the arrest and conviction of her killer, the murderer remains free. Rainier’s third homicide happened in 1999, when a 36-year-old carpenter pushed his son off of the bridge at Christine Falls before making his own fatal 125-foot trip to Van Trump Creek.

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The First Flying Saucers ount Rainier is a landmark for a pivotal UFO sighting in North America. On June 24, 1947, 10 days before a New Mexico ranch hand found the wreckage of a peculiar aircraft near Roswell, New Mexico, a private pilot flying over the state of Washington observed nine shiny objects flying near Mount Rainier. The pilot, Kenneth Arnold, estimated the speed of these disc-shaped airPark visitor center or secret underground UFO base? You decide. ships to be in

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excess of 1,600 m.p.h. as they flew in and out of the mountains between Mount Rainier and Mount Adams. Arnold described the movement of these discs as being like “pie plates skipping over the water.” That same day, many other people reported seeing strange objects in the sky over Oregon. From Arnold’s description, a reporter coined the term “flying saucer,” and the modern history of UFO sightings was born.

The Scariest Secret of All f you are fortunate enough to see Rainier on a clear day, it will be hard for you to comprehend that the mountain was once even more imposing than it is now, a massive cone rising nearly 16,000 feet above sea level. A major eruption blew the top off the summit 5,800 years ago, taking the peak down a couple of notches to 14,410 feet. The last significant eruption occurred sometime between 1820 and 1854. Since then, Takhoma has kept a lid on her volcanic tempers. Nevertheless, the NPS still posts “Geo-Hazard Zone” warnings in the campground. Will the mountain’s fury erupt again? Probably not in our lifetime, but geologists say the volcano is asleep, not dead, that the important question isn’t if Rainier will erupt again, but when. And if Takhoma knows when she will again become a volcano, she’s keeping it a secret. Hike: Trail of the Shadows

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An ominous sign.

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THE HIKES Van Trump Trail/Mildred Point MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

5 Moderate The parking area is on the road 4.4 miles from Longmire, just past the Cougar Rock Campground and just before the road bridge over Christine Falls. It’s a shame Wood lost his way on such a fantastic trail. After a half-mile of switchbacks you reach Comet Falls and the views open up. Crossing Van Trump Creek can be hazardous during high water. (Could this be where Wood ran into trouble?) At the first fork in the trail, a short spur leads to Van Trump Park, an unbearably beautiful meadow with an awesome view of Rainier on sunny summer days. Mountain goats are often spotted here, and on clear days you can see Mt. St. Helens. At the next fork, go right and begin the calf-burning climb to Mildred Point. Standing at the edge of this perilous drop-off gives you excellent views of Kautz and Van Trump Glaciers. Sit a safe distance from the cliff’s edge and listen for rock falls and avalanches echoing off of the slopes. One look at the terrain will make it clear how difficult it will be for rangers to find your body if you die while wandering off the main trail.

Trail of the Shadows MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

0.75 Easy Park behind the Longmire Inn. The trail is across the street. A self-guided nature walk to the shadowy realm of an old growth forest, the mineral springs discovered by

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Mount Rainier Trail of the Shadows, Van Trump Trail

James Longmire, and the cabin built by his son in 1888. According to rangers and the manager of the Longmire Inn, there are “rumors” going around that Longmire’s ghost has been seen wandering around the mineral springs.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Summer. Be prepared for wet weather. Rangers don’t call it “Rain-ier” for nothing.

Contact MOUNT RAINIER NATIONAL PARK: 360-569-2211 ext. 3314; www.nps.gov/mora

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OLYMPIC The Evil Spirits of Lake Crescent ed by snowmelt from glaciers on Mount Olympus, Lake Crescent is more than 600 feet deep in spots. The Klallam Indians refused to fish the waters because they believed evil spirits lurked in the depths, and fisherman have long told stories of the bottomless lake that never gives up its dead. Which isn’t entirely accurate. The dead do pop out of Lake Crescent from time to time. In 1940, two brothers fishing from an outboard skiff spotted something floating in the water near Sledgehammer Point. They

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Foggy day on Lake Crescent.

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View from Meldrim Point.

motored over for a closer look and found the body of a woman wrapped inside a bundle of blankets. An ivory shoulder peeked out from one end and an alabaster foot poked out of the other. Months later, investigators identified the woman as Hallie Illingworth, an auburn-haired waitress at the Lake Crescent Lodge who had disappeared three years earlier. Investigators discovered that Hallie’s husband had strangled her to death, hogtied her body with ropes, weighted it down with rocks, and dumped it into Lake Crescent. The Hallie Illingworth story is a favorite of Lake Crescent lore. People call her the “Lady of the Lake” because of how she was so wellpreserved when the fishermen found her. Due to a chemical process called “saponification,” the cold waters turned Hallie Illingworth’s corpse into soap. But the lake can also be extremely stingy with her victims. It’s listed as Madrona or Meldrim Point on most maps, but the locals and the rangers have called it Ambulance Point since 1960, after an ambulance skidded off the point and splashed into the lake. The two attendants were able to escape, but the patient, a logger with a broken

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Keep your eye on the road and your hands on the wheel. They don’t call this Ambulance Point for nothing.

leg, had been strapped down to a gurney. He drowned in the cold water. You’ll find Ambulance Point at Mile Marker 223, about four miles from the west end of the lake. The guardrails weren’t there on July 3, 1929, the day Russell Warren and his wife, Blanch, got into their 1927 Chevrolet and headed into Port Angeles to do some shopping. The Warrens’ two sons, Frank and Charles, waited and waited for their parents to return from their shopping trip. They never did. Some folks believed the Warrens were a selfish couple who had simply abandoned their teenaged sons for a better life. Others believed foul play was afoot. Over the years, there were times the Warren boys wondered if maybe their parents had indeed abandoned them. Sadly, by 1973, both Frank and Charles had gone to their graves without ever learning the truth about their parents’ disappearance. In 2001, a team of divers led by Ranger Dan Pontribrand began a systematic search operation to scour the lake for the Warrens’ Chevy. In the first months, divers found not one but two antique cars. But they were disappointed when both vehicles turned out to be Fords. Then, in April 2002, a volunteer diver searching the waters near Ambulance

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Point found something that made him say “whoo hoo!” through his regulator. There it was. A 1927 Chevrolet lying on its side. Surely it was the Warrens’. Two years later, three bones, two femurs, and part of a skull were found near the Chevy. The bones were sent to a lab for DNA testing. In December 2005, the remains were positively identifed as belonging to Russell Warren, based on a DNA sample from Jessie (Wilma) Ewing, the Warrens’ niece. After 75 years, the lake reluctantly gave up the body of Russell Warren. The bones were cremated and the ashes were scattered on the shore of Lake Crescent. Ranger Don Pontbriand intends to dive the lake again in the spring of 2006 to search for Blanche. Hike: Spruce Railroad Trail

Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Go Back into the Water fter 23 years at Olympic National Park, ranger and rescue diver Larry Lang has witnessed more than a few strange things. He’s seen a photograph of a group of rangers sitting around a campfire with a pair of unaccounted for red eyes shining in the darkness behind them. A Native American woman once told Lang that her grandmother owned a tuft of Sasquatch fur. And he knows a hiker who, after being lost for several days, claimed he found his way out of the forest with the assistance of a talking squirrel and ghostly bagpipes. But of all the weirdness Larry Lang has seen and heard while working at Olympic National Park, nothing has unsettled him more than something he saw at the bottom of Lake Crescent. It was August 7, 1983. A warm summer afternoon with clear skies and a slight breeze. A perfect day for a swim. Tommy Lyons and his wife were carrying an ice chest and some food down to the beach near Wallace Point, when a gust of wind blew an inner tube out of their son’s hands, down the hill, and into the lake. Wearing cutoff shorts and sneakers, Lyons entered the water to retrieve the float. A good swimmer, Lyons quickly reached the inner tube, but when he grabbed for it,

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another breeze sent the float out of his reach. Lyons swam after the tube several more times. Each time he grabbed for it another breeze would blow it away. It was strange the way the breeze kept blowing the inner tube out of reach just as Lyons lunged for it. Tommy Lyons had swum more than 50 yards from the shore when he made one last lunge for the errant inner tube. The breeze shot ahead like it had done so many times before, but this time, as if sucked down by some unseen force, Lyons went under water and never came back up. Responding to Mrs. Lyons’s hysterical cries for help, swimmers and fishermen flocked to the area. The search for Lyons began immediately, but despite the clear waters, no one could see him. By the time ranger Larry Lang arrived, the only thing left to do was to dive the lake. The waters of Lake Crescent are quite clear. Lang says, on a moonlit night, you can be 100 feet below the surface and still see the moon and stars shining above you. After setting up a guideline that led from the shore to the point witnesses saw Lyons go under, Lang and another diver conducted a grid search, slowly moving across the silty bottom in a back and forth pattern along the elevation contours. First at 10 feet, then at 20 feet, and so on. Lang was 80 feet below the surface before he found an oblong-shaped depression in the silt and gravel of the lake bottom. Just down slope, he saw another depression and another one and another one. Strange tracks in a staggered pattern leading down the steep slope into deeper water. “I don’t want to call them footprints,” Lang says, “but they were impressions in the silt that could have been made by someone walking on the bottom of the lake.” Lang followed these “impressions” to a depth of 150 feet. The impressions continued but Lang had to stop. Park service safety regulations prohibited him from diving any deeper. The next day, a team of deepwater diving experts with specialized equipment conducted a search in the same location. They, too, found the odd markings on the bottom of the lake. The deep water divers followed the depressions to a depth of 200 feet, as deep as the divers could safely go at that time, before they had to stop. After 20 years, the body of Tommy Lyons has never been found and Larry Lang has never stopped wondering, “How in the hell did those impressions get there?” And what in the world made them? Hike: Spruce Railroad Trail

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Chief Ranger Tormented by Horny Beast ith its Pacific coastline, glacier-studded mountains, and temperate rainforests, Olympic National Park is one of the largest, most diverse parks in the national system. It is also one of the poorest. Underfunded and understaffed, a chief ranger suffering from budget woes is not going to have much patience with a nutty writer researching the supernatural. Fortunately for yours truly, the chief ranger of Olympic happens to be a former colleague of mine. I hadn’t seen Tim Simonds in years, but I still figured I could prey upon our friendship in order to get the inside scoop on what weird and mysterious events were happening in his park. I phoned Simonds,

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Ghostly rain forest.

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and he sounded genuinely glad to hear from me. At least until I got around to telling him the reason I had called. After an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line, Simonds sighed and said, “We have a bigfoot.” Olympic’s chief ranger confessed this to me with the same weary resignation one might use to say, “I have athlete’s foot.” And when I asked him “What more do you know about it?” Simonds said, “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” The park’s first recorded Sasquatch sighting occurred in 1948. According to Report #1723 on the Bigfoot Field Research Organization website, four men were walking their horses near the end of the Hoh River Trail, somewhere between Elk Lake and Glacier Meadows, when they saw a black, eight-foot-tall creature stooping on the left side of the trail. The creature stood up and ran, leaving behind a foul odor. A half a century later, during the summer of 2000, so many bigfoot sightings were coming in from the Olympic Peninsula, the Associated Press went so far as to print “A Sasquatch alert in the Hoh Rainforest” headline. The “Summer of Sasquatch” began when a resident of the Hoh Indian Reservation called the sheriff’s office after hearing strange noises and finding giant footprints behind his home just outside the boundary of Olympic National Park. Soon more tracks were found along the Sol Duc River, and, in October, a European hiker saw two extraordinarily tall creatures, with arms so long their hands were at their knees, hiking the park’s Elk Mountain Trail. It didn’t take long for the supermarket tabloids to pick up the story. In March 2001, the Weekly World News reported that 20 hikers in the Olympic Mountains had seen an “over-sexed female Bigfoot.” According to the tabloid, the Sasquatch had accosted three men, including one terrified camper who had been groped and kissed by the amorous beast. The Weekly World News claimed that “rangers at Olympic National Park say the sightings have all occurred over a recent 30-day period.” But when I pinned down Chief Ranger Simonds for a quote on this story, he categorically denied the existence of a nymphomaniac Sasquatch in his park. Hike: Hoh River Trail

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An Easy Place to Get Lost, Forever n August 1939, not far from where a bigfoot was seen, rangers found the camp of a female botanist named Marion Steven. Despite an intense search effort, Stevens was never found. Sixty years later almost to the day, rangers found another abandoned campsite near Elk Lake. This one belonged to Hendrick Broeren, 18, who, despite the intense search effort, was also never found. When a search for a missing person goes on for weeks, the national media attention inspires psychics to contact the park service with information they claim will help the search effort. If this happens, a ranger will act professionally, take down the information given to them by the psychic, and within reason, follow up on the leads. These tips from mediums rarely turn up any valuable clues. In 1985, Geoffrey Alan Browne, 29, a producer for The Cosby

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Ethereal rain forest.

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Show, disappeared during a summer tour of several national parks in the west. A month after he was last seen alive, rangers found Browne’s Jeep parked at the start of the Klahhane Ridge Trail. Six days of intense searching followed, but two helicopters, nine dogs, and hundreds of searchers failed to turn up one single clue as to the whereabouts of Geoffrey Browne. Increasingly frustrated, the family enlisted the help of a psychic in New York. The psychic told them Browne would be found by his father on the last day of the search. The family passed this information on to the rangers, but since it didn’t provide a tangible lead searchers could follow, the rangers didn’t pay much attention to it. A week into the search, on July 28, the park service agreed to let a news helicopter from Seattle fly Browne’s father over the park. Worried loved ones don’t realize how challenging it can be to find a missing person. Especially if that person is dead or doesn’t want to be found. For this reason, the park service often allows a family member to participate in a helicopter search. It gives them the opportunity to see for themselves how finding a lost person in a big park can be like searching for a gray marble in a gravel pit. The pilot flew Mr. Browne over search areas that had already been covered by experienced rangers many times before. But as they hovered over Mount Angeles something extraordinary happened. The clouds parted and a beam of sunlight briefly highlighted a spot below the cliffs that might otherwise go unnoticed. Looking through the helicopter window, Mr. Browne’s eyes followed the light rays to the base of the mountain and saw the broken body of his son lying on the rocks. Just as the psychic had predicted, he was found by his father on the last day of the search. The park service investigation concluded that Browne had fallen down an avalanche chute while hiking to the summit of Mt. Angeles, possibly while taking photographs. He had been dead for over a month. Hike: Klahhane Ridge Trail

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THE HIKES Spruce Railroad Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:


8 Easy Take U.S. Highway 101 west of Port Angeles to the western end of the lake. Turn right onto the road leading to Fairholm Campground. Continue past the campground for another 4.8 miles to the trailhead. Bicycles Be sure to bring a tent and a tarp. I don’t care if it’s raining. You gotta camp here! Fairholm Campground is canopied by creepy trees, dripping with moss, and many sites come with views of the lake. If you visit on

Olympic Spruce Railroad Trail

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Olympic Hoh River Trail

a weekend, come early and grab a campsite before the locals get ’em. Then you can hike or bike this old WW I railroad bed along the north shore of Lake Crescent.

Hoh River Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

1 to 35 Easy to Strenuous From Highway 101, about 15 miles south of Forks, on the western side of the park, take the road heading east to the Hoh Rain Forest. The trail begins at the Hoh Ranger Station. This travels through nearly all of the park’s unique ecosystems, from the rain forest to the subalpine meadows to the glaciated mountain slopes. The first few miles are an easy stroll through a green tunnel of shaggy evergreens, an appropriate setting to consider the many Bigfoot sightings that have occurred along this and other shadowy rivers in the park. Ten miles in, the going gets more strenuous and exciting as backpackers turn south along Glacier Creek and cross a tall bridge before climbing up to Elk Lake (15.1 miles). You can camp at Elk Lake or continue to Glacier Meadows (2.2 miles further). A half-mile or more from Glacier Meadows is Blue Glacier, the home of a

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Olympic Klahhane Ridge Trail

species that sounds like something out of science fiction—worms that live in ice. Glacier ice worms are real and they eat algae. When conditions are right, thousands of these little black worms can be seen crawling out of the glacier. Scientists are still mystified by their ability to live in such harsh conditions.

Klahhane Ridge Trail MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

5 to 15 Easy to Strenuous From Port Angeles drive south on Race Street, which becomes Hurricane Ridge Road. The trailhead is near the end of the road, about 18 miles from town, in the Big Meadow parking area just before you reach the Hurricane Ridge Visitor Center.

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DESCRIPTION:

After an easy half-mile, the hiking becomes more difficult as you wind along the crest of Sunrise Ridge toward Mount Angeles. After 2.5 miles of hiking, you traverse the eastern base of Mount Angeles. Experienced climbers reach this peak by scaling a route on the southern side of the mountain. For a fivemile moderate hike, return to the trailhead here. For a strenuous and long loop, return to the visitor center via the trail to Lake Angeles.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

The lower elevations and the coastal sections of the park can be visited all year. Winter snows bring crosscountry skiers to some of the trails at higher elevations. August is the driest month for backpacking. Expect wet weather no matter when you come.

Contact OLYMPIC NATIONAL PARK: 360-565-3131; www.nps.gov/olym

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CRATER LAKE Too Sacred for Human Eyes ave you ever heard a man describe a woman as being “so beautiful it hurts.” Well, it’s a phrase that suits Crater Lake perfectly. Just under 2,000 feet deep, Crater Lake is the clearest, cleanest, and deepest body of water in the United States. Filled with rainwater, the lake is so pristine and wavelengths of sunlight are able to penetrate so deeply that the colors reflected back to our retinas are blues and purples of an unreal intensity. To the Klamath Indians, it was a sight too sacred for human eyes. To their way of thinking, to gaze upon the azure waters was to risk “death and lasting sorrow.” According to Klamath legends, two spirits named Llao and Skell fought gory battles here. Llao ripped Skell’s heart from his chest, and Skell retaliated by dismembering Llao and throwing the body parts into the lake. Hideous monsters gobbled up everything but Llao’s head, but the lake still holds Llao’s spirit. When stirred, he may brew up

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Klamath Indians believed the beauty of Crater Lake was too sacred for human eyes.

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storm clouds. When angered, he may appear in the form of a giant crayfish that climbs up out of the lake, snatches people off of the rim of the crater that surrounds the lake, and drags them down into the water. One day, a group of friends were touring the lake in a row boat, when one of them, Mattie Hatcher, looked over the side and saw something really big swimming underneath the boat. “That thing must have been a block long,” Hatcher told a reporter for the Fort Meyers NewsStar in May of 2002. “To me it looked like a dragon.” Frightened by what they had seen, Hatcher and her friends rowed to shore and climbed to the top of the rim. They warned people about the monster living in the chilly depths of Crater Lake, but no one believed them. In 1977, Hollywood produced a film titled The Crater Lake Monster. I can’t recommend the movie, but the boat tour of the lake is not to be missed. First you must hike the trail down to Cleetwood Cove where you board boats headed for Wizard Island, the cinder cone in the center of the lake. Wizard Island is supposed to be Llao’s head. You should probably keep your arms and legs inside the boat at all times. Looking over the side, staring into a lake that appears to have no bottom, it’s easy to imagine a giant crawfish with a taste for tourist flesh. There does seem to be something about the lake that sucks people into it. Suicides, tragic falls off the cliffs, and plane crashes are not unheard of here. The Rim Drive is perhaps the most scenic 33 miles in Oregon and a favorite with cyclists. Don’t let the views distract you too much, though. It’s a long way down.

The Twin Report ormer Crater Lake rangers Lloyd and Larry Smith are identical twins who have painstakingly documented many of the fascinating events that have occurred in the park over the last hundred years. Here’s a sampler from their website:

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July 19, 1952: Rangers respond to a report of a green Pontiac parked at the edge of Annie Creek Canyon. They find the Pontiac parked in a pullout with the doors wide open. The car belongs to two executives

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Something sinister in the rocks along Annie Creek.

working for General Motors. Two days later, the executives’ bodies are found in the forest a quarter-mile from the road. They are gagged with their own neckties, their shoes have been removed, and each man has died from an execution-style gunshot wound to the head. The murders are never solved. June 1976: The Chief Park Naturalist, an educated ornithologist experienced in nature observation, becomes badly shaken after seeing a “bigfoot” creature cross the road in front of him just before dark just before it enters the forests above Annie Creek. September 1976: After breakfast in the lodge, a man suddenly jumps up, announces that he is going to kill himself, and sprints for the rim. His wife and several lodge employees chase him out the door of the Crater Lake Lodge and down the rim promenade toward the

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Who would imagine the blue jewel of Oregon would be such a magnet for odd occurrences? Hike: Annie Creek Loop

The Burp of 1945 ny third grader can take one look at Crater Lake and determine that it is volcanic in origin. The lake is almost perfectly round, the rim is surrounded by lava rock, and a cone-shaped island rises out of the water. The crater looks quiet today, but scientists are certain that some form of unmonitored volcanic activity is occurring at the bottom of the lake, 98% of which remains unexplored. In a 2005 volcanic threat report, the U.S.G.S. listed Crater Lake as one of 13 high-risk volcanoes in the United States. During the fall of 1945, the lake came down with a geologic case of indigestion. Strange clouds of dust-like fog or gas burped from the deepest part of the lake. Each time these burps were seen, the weather was clear and calm, with no sign of fog or storms. In a park service press release, a ranger described one of the clouds as being 300 feet wide, 400 feet tall, and shaped like a diamond. Several people observed the unexplained “belches” of dust-like gas from the summit of

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Mt. Garfield, including one witness with a camera. The 1,000-foot column of smoke heading his way frightened the photographer so much he forgot to take a picture. The phenomena continued to occur off and on for several weeks, until sometime in December when it suddenly stopped. What caused the lake to burp? No one knows. Hike: Mount Garfield

Uncanny Presence Helps Ranger Solve 25-Year-Old Mystery uring the year the lake was belching, there was a war going on, and the park was closed. Before heading to Europe or Japan, many WW II pilots from the Army base in Klamath Falls practiced their maneuvers above Crater Lake. A few of these airships ended in the big drink. On December 3, 1945, a Grumman Hell Cat fighter pilot peeled out of formation, flew into the clouds 21,000 feet above Crater Lake, and was never heard from again. Twenty-five years later, on August 17,

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Ranger finds skull and solves 25-year-old mystery.

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1970, an off-duty ranger was exploring the valley between Skell Head and Mt. Scott. Locals had been scavenging pieces of an old airplane from that area. The ranger went looking for the site in order to protect it from further harm. After several hours of not finding much, the ranger sat down on a log to decide where he should look next. Suddenly, a strong feeling came over him. Someone or something was watching him. As he glanced about the trees, the ranger saw something that gave him a jolt. A human skull was staring at him from a nearby log! A subsequent military investigation determined that the skull belonged to Hellcat pilot, Navy Ensign Frank Lupo who had been missing since 1945. A quarter-century after her son had gone missing, Lupo’s mother was at least given some comfort in knowing what had happened to her son. Hike: Mount Scott

A Ghost and Goblin Park lthough the park has few traditional hauntings, ranger Jan Kirwan calls Crater Lake a “ghost and goblin park.” It didn’t take me long to see Kirwan’s point. From the Indian legends of long ago to the modern tales of today, there is an undeniable fairy tale atmosphere to Crater Lake, a surreal landscape of enchanting moments and bizarre dangers. For example, in 1853, the first white man to see the lake, a miner named John Hillman, was greeted by something extraordinary just before he reached the crater’s rim—a snow white deer with pink eyes. Kirwan says Crater Lake rangers often see campfires burning on Wizard Island, but when they boat out there, the rangers find no sign of campers, no whiff of smoke, and no scorch marks on the ground. One evening, Kirwan was patrolling the roads below the rim when she spotted 10 people standing around a roaring fire, camping illegally in the forest far from the designated campground. The ranger parked her car and entered the woods to contact the illegal campers, but when she reached the site, she could find no people and no campfire. Somewhat distressed by the campers’ furtive behavior, the ranger got behind a tree and called for backup. The two rangers searched all over, but still

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Wizard Island boat dock.

couldn’t find any sign of the “roaring campfire” or the 10 campers Kirwan had seen just moments before. When Kirwan and her partner told the other rangers about their unnerving experience, they learned that the place where Kirwan had seen the phantom campers was the site of an old park service campground called Cold Spring. And before Crater Lake was a national park, the Klamath Indians used it as a temporary hunting and berrypicking camp. But of all the freakish tales from this outlandish park, the story of the Old Man touches me the most. The Old Man is a mountain hemlock. He is 35 feet tall, stands vertically in the water, and has been floating in the lake since at least 1896, traveling as far as four miles in a single day. If you’re lucky and have good eyes, you might be able to pick out the Old Man from the Cleetwood Cove Trail or from one of the overlooks nearby. Look for a grayish white, almost bone-like stub bobbing in the vast and lonely expanse of blue, where the stoic old log has floated for more than 100 years. The Old Man is an organic embodiment of the Zen term yugen— the dark, shadowy side of Nature; the profoundly unfathomable, the beautiful, terrifying mysteries of death. Like the Japanese character for

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The Old Man has been floating around Crater Lake for over 100 years.

the word, yugen is the unknowable mountain hidden within the mist. Like the silent mountain, the Old Man is a riddle we will never solve. “We don’t like to mess with the Old Man,” ranger Dave Grimes says when park visitors ask him why rangers no longer jump off the tour boats onto the Old Man’s stump to pose for pictures. In 1988, a party of submarine explorers feared the errant log might damage their ship. They harnessed the Old Man and hauled him toward the shore. As soon as the log was tethered, the weather turned ugly. The wind blew. White caps formed on the surface. A current stirred. So the scientists released the Old Man. Within minutes, the weather went from angry to benign. Rangers say the Old Man has “taken a beating” over the years. There use to be four feet of him sticking out of the water, and now there is only three. The cold waters are protecting the log from decay, but a tattered old tree can’t go on floating around a lake forever can it? And this scares me a little. What’s going to happen to us when the Old Man finally sinks? Hike: Cleetwood Trail/Wizard Island

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THE HIKES Mount Garfield MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

3.4 Moderate Sinnocott Overlook and Crater Lake Lodge are at the Rim Village. To get in the proper mood, check out the Sinnocott Museum first. Read the modern volcano exhibits and watch the eruption video. The lake may not burp for you (probably a good thing), but the view from Garfield Peak is still worth the climb. From the Sinnocott, you walk a short distance along the paved path in front of the lodge, which will take you to the trailhead. A steady but well-graded climb to the top gets you 2,000 feet above the lake. From here, most of the park’s major landmarks are visible and on clear days you can see as far as California’s Mt. Shasta.

Mount Scott MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

5 Moderate On the east rim just north of the turnout for Cloudcap Overlook, at mile 17.9 on the rim road. At 8,926 feet, Mt. Scott is the highest peak in the park. The Klamath called it Tum-sum-ne or “the place where the chief sleeps.” Only shamans and the spiritually prepared would climb it. You may get winded as you climb more than 1,200 feet to the summit, so use the wildflowers and the bird watching as excuses to take lots of breaks. There are still a few WW II pilots who are unaccounted for, but you’re much more likely to find deer resting in the rocks than a human skull.

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Crater Lake Mount Garfield, Mount Scott, Annie Creek, Cleetwood Trail / Wizard Island

Annie Creek Loop MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD: DESCRIPTION:

1.7 Moderate You’ll find the trail at the back side of Mazama Campground next to the Mazama store. This charming trail is named after Annie Gaines, the first woman to descend the walls of Crater Lake, who, after breaking her shoe on her way down to the shore, described the lake as a “horrid puddle.” From the Mazama Campground, descend to a bubbling stream at the bottom of the canyon where deer munch on the

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lush green slopes. At stop eight on the self-guided tour, look upstream from the bridge and you’ll see something scary in the rocks. If a pine cone comes hurling out of the forest at you, it’s probably wise not to throw it back.

Cleetwood Trail/Wizard Island MILES: EFFORT: TRAILHEAD:

DESCRIPTION:

2.2 or 1.8 Moderate Parking lot at mile 11.2 on Rim Drive. Buy tickets for the boat tour ($23) at the kiosk before you head down the trail. The only route down to the lake, the Cleetwood Trail is also one of the steepest trails in the park. At the bottom, you can touch the water and board one of the boats headed to Wizard Island—a cinder cone in the center of the lake. The boat tour circles the lake in two hours. I suggest you let the ranger drop you off on Wizard Island for a couple of hours. The island atmosphere is enchanting and you can hike the 0.9 mile trail to the top of the cone. Bring lunch, rain gear, sunscreen, drinking water, and bug repellant. If he can find it, the boat operator will take you to see the Old Man on the way back.

Park Info WHEN

TO

GO:

Summer, unless you like to ski.

Contacts CRATER LAKE NATIONAL PARK: 541-594-3100; www.nps.gov/crla THE SMITH BROTHERS’ CHRONOLOGICAL HISTORY OF CRATER LAKE: www.drizzle.com/~rdpayne/smithbros/main.htm

363

REFERENCES AND SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY Blackman, W. Haden. The Field Guide to North American Hauntings. Three Rivers Press, 1998. Brandon, Jim. Weird America: A Guide to Places of Mystery in the United States. E. P. Dutton, 1970. Clyne, Patricia. Ghostly Animals of America. Dodd, Mead and Company, 1977. Eling, Jeffrey, ed. First to the Parklands: Original Narratives from the History of Western Exploration. The Narrative Press, 2003. Farabee, Charles R. Death Daring and Disaster: Search and Rescue in the National Parks. Roberts Rinehart, 1998. Hauck, Dennis William. Haunted Places: The National Directory: Ghostly Abodes, Sacred Sites, UFO Landings, and Other Supernatural Locations. Penguin Books, 2002. Morgen, Emmanuelle, ed. The Official Guide to America’s National Parks. National Park Foundation, 2004. Norman, Michael, and Beth Scott. Haunted America. Tor Books, 1994. –––––––. Historic Haunted America. Tor Books, 1995. –––––––. The Sierra Club Guides to the National Parks. Stewart, Tabori and Chang, 1984-1986. Taylor, Troy. Out Past the Campfire Light: Hauntings, Horrors, and Unsolved Mysteries of the Great Outdoors. Whitechapel Productions Press, 2004. Trento, Salvatore M. A Field Guide to Mysterious Places of the West. Pruett Publishing, 1994.

CALIFORNIA AND HAWAII BOOKS Bunnell, Lafayette H. Discovery of the Yosemite in 1851. Outbooks, 1880. Clark, Galen. Indians of Yosemite Valley and Vicinity. Yosemite,: 1904 Kaufman, Phil. Road Mangler Deluxe. Colin White & Laurie Boicle, 1998. Lester, Elizabeth. The Legendary King of San Miguel: Island Life in the Santa Barbara Channel. McNally & Loftin Publishers, 1974. Mitchell, Roger. Death Valley SUV Trails. Track and Trail Publishing, 2001. Muir, John. Steep Trails. Houghton Mifflin Co., 1918.

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HAUNTED HIKES

Murphy, Bob. Desert Shadows: A True Story of the Charles Manson Family in Death Valley. Sagebrush Press, 1999. Schaffer, Jeffrey P. Yosemite National Park: A Natural History Guide to Yosemite and Its Trails. Wilderness Press, 1992. Senate, Richard. Ghosts of the Haunted Coast. Pathfinder Publishing, 1986. Wheeler, Eugene D., and Robert Kallman. Shipwrecks, Smugglers and Maritime Mysteries. McNally & Loflin Publishers, 1984. Wild, Peter, ed. True Tales of the Mojave: From Talking Rocks to Yucca Man. Center for American Places, 2005. PERIODICALS Brennen, Christopher. “The Far Side of the Sky: Yosemite’s Haunted Canyon.” www.dankat.com. September 9, 2000. Briggs, Joel. “The Haunting Hanging of Joe Simpson.” www.desertdrifter.com. May 2001. Cart, Julie. “Hawaii’s Hot Rocks Blamed by Tourists for Bad Luck.” Los Angeles Times, May 17, 2001. Dougherty, Ryan. “Park Mysteries: Nature’s Rolling Stones.” National Parks, Fall 2004 Edwards, Megan. “Hauntings by Hootch: A Visit to Skiddo Ghost Town.” www.roadtripamerica.com. May 6, 2002. “Ghosts Among Visitors at Yosemite Historic Hotels.” Delaware North Press Release, October 7, 2004. Johnson, Benjamin Heber. “The Dark Side of Environmentalism.” Reviews in American History 29, no. 2 (June 2001). Magagini, Stephanie. “Miwok Fight for Acceptance.” Sacramento Bee, July 1, 1997. NPS Case Reports 95-2334 and 95-3254 and other court documents related to Lund kidnapping and arrest. October 1995. Scheide, R.V. “Death Valley Daze: Notes from a Manson Family Vacation.” Sacramento News & Review, May 17, 2001. Silver, Kate. “Death at Devil’s Hole.” Las Vegas Life, January 2005. Taylor, Frank. “The Lost Treasure of Lost Horse Mine.” Desert Magazine, March 1968. “Traditional Use Agreement Signed Between Yosemite National Park and American Indian Council of Mariposa County.” NPS Press Release. October 17, 1997.

DESERT SOUTHWEST BOOKS Allen, Steve. Canyoneering 3: Loop Hikes in Utah’s Escalante. University of Utah Press, 1997.


365

Ghiglieri, Michael P., and Thomas M. Myers. Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon. Puma Press, 2001. Ives, Joseph Christmas. Report Upon the Colorado River of the West, Explored in 1857 and 1858. Government Printing Office, 1861. Malotki, Ekkehart. Maasaw: Profile of a Hopi God. University of Nebraska Press, 1987. Rusho, W. L. Everett Ruess: A Vagabond for Beauty. Peregrine Smith Books, 1983 Utley, Robert M. Longhorns of the Big Bend. NPS Publication, April 1962. PERIODICALS “Citation for Distinguished Service Clinton G. Harkins.” Holbrook, AZ: Memorandum US DOI NPS, January 8, 1954. Dold, Catherine. “American Cannibal: Discovery of Evidence of Cannibalism in Archeological Sites in Colorado.” Discover, February, 1998. Garner, Joe. “Spirits Seen at Mesa Verde Wildfire.” Knoxville News Sentinel, July 31, 2000. Handbook of Texas Online, S.B. “Chisos Mountains,” http://www.tsha.utexas/ handbook/online/articles/view/cc/rjc37.html. (Accessed February 7, 2005.) Hartigan, Rachel. “Dying for Dinner? A Debate Rages over Desert Cannibalism.” U.S. News and World Report, July 24, 2000. “Kolb Studio-Recovery of Human Remains.” NPS case report 000280. Grand Canyon, AZ: February 7, 1977. Potter, Lida Bailey. “The Murder of Juan de Leon.” Alpine Avalanche, February 2004. “Selected Locations Associated with Violence in Historic Big Bend.” NPS document. Faxed to author February 16, 2005. Suran, William C. “With the Wings of an Angel: A Biography of Ellsworth and Emery Kolb.” Flagstaff, AZ: Grand Canyon Historical Society, 1991. Verrengia, Joseph. “Evidence Shows Cannibalism by Ancient Indians.” Nature. September 2000.

DEEP SOUTH BOOKS Ambrose, Stephen E. Undaunted Courage: Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson, and the Opening of the American West. Simon & Schuster, 1996. Federal Writers’ Project 1936-1940. Louisiana: A Guide to the State, 1941. Oxford University Press, 1941. Jamison, Kay Redfield. Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide. Vintage Books, 1999. Mathiesson, Peter. The Killing of Mr. Watson. Vintage, 1999. Singer, Gerald. St. John Off the Beaten Track. Sombrero Publishing, 2000.

366

HAUNTED HIKES

PERIODICALS King, Jim. “The Ghost Road of Hardin County.” Clarence Card Quarterly Journal of Southwest Railroad History 36, no. 4 (Autumn 1999). Laufenberg, Kathleen. “Florida’s Monster.” Tallahassee Democrat, August 14, 2003. Levesque, Sidney. “Was it El Chupacabra? West Texas Man Kills Chicken Slayer.” Scrips Howard News Service, September 10, 2005. Lovegen, Stefan. “Huge, Freed Pet Pythons Invade Florida Everglades.” National Geographic News, June 3, 2004. Reid, James. “Thrill Ride” The Beaumont Enterprise. March 7, 2004 Richey, Warren. “Tracing the Trail of Outlaws in the Everglades.” Christian Science Monitor, December 9, 1997. Tiansay, Eric. “Panther Tracker Claims Bigfoot Sighting.” Naples Daily News, November 20, 1998. White, Randy Wayne. “Cursed: The Tale of a Certain Gold Relic.” Outside Magazine, October 1996. Winthrop, Lynn. “Another Texas Chupacabra?” Lufkin Daily News, October 25, 2004.

EASTERN MOUNTAINS BOOKS Adkins, Leonard M. Walking the Blue Ridge: A Guide to Trails of the Blue Ridge Parkway. University of North Carolina Press, 2003. Baldwin, Juanitta. Smoky Mountain Mysteries. Kodak, TN: Suntop Press, 2002. –––––––. and Ester Grubb. Unsolved Disappearances in the Great Smoky Mountains. Suntop Press, 1998. Barry, Joseph. The Strange Story of Harper’s Ferry. The Woman’s Club of Harper’s Ferry, 1903. Citro, Joseph A. Passing Strange: True Tales of New England Hauntings and Horrors. Houghton Mifflin Company, 1997. Coggins, Allen R. Place Names of the Smokies. Great Smoky Mountain Natural History Association, 1999. Coleman, Christopher K. Dark and Bloody Ground: Authentic Accounts of Restless Spirits, Haunted Honky-Tonks, and Eerie Events in Tennessee. Rutledge Hill Press, 1998. Lillard, David, and Gwyn Hicks. Exploring the Appalachian Trail: Hikes in the Virginias. Stackpole Books, 1998. Murray, Robert K., and Roger W. Brucker. Trapped! The Story of Floyd Collins: University Press of Kentucky, 1983. Olson, Colleen O’Connor, and Charles Hanion. Scary Stories of Mammoth Cave. St. Louis, MO: Cave Books, 2002.


367

PERIODICALS Benavitch, David. “Oral Interview of Elie Taft Hughes: Brown Mountain Creek Before the AT.” Transcript. Natural Bridge Appalachian Trail Club, www.nbatc.org. October 7, 1992. Costa, Jimmy. “Ghost Light at Richmond’s Ferry.” Goldenseal: West Virginia Traditional Life, Fall 1992 Daly, Kimberly. “Tall Tales from Tall Mountains.” The Tennessean, May 2, 2004. Fearless, Barbara Nordin. “After Rice: New Questions in Park Murders.” The Hook, March 19, 2004. French, Thomas. “Lightning: Nature’s Strike Force.” St. Petersburg Times, July 23, 1989. Furst, David. “Oral History Interview with Mrs. Remona Ann McMillion.” Transcript. October 17, 2004. Glod, Maria and Martin Weil. “Charges Dropped in Hikers’ Slayings.” Washington Post, February 7, 2004. Heatwole, Antony. “Guide to SNP.” http://ajheatwole.com. Accessed June 14, 2005. Hoffenberg, Noah. “Vermont: Is it a Bigfoot, or a Man in a Gorilla Suit.” Bennington Banner, October 3, 2003. Russell, Davy. “The Bennington Triangle.” X-Project Magazine, August 8, 1999. Singh, Simon. “The Beale Treasure.” The Guardian, 1999.

NORTHEAST AND MID ATLANTIC BOOKS Federal Writers’ Project 1936-1940. Michigan: A Guide to the Wolverine State. Oxford University Press, 1941. Lenihan, Daniel. Submerged: Adventures of America’s Most Elite Underwater Archeology Team. New Market Press, 2002. Lezendorf, Dennis. Effigy Mounds: A Guide to Effigy Mounds National Monument. Eastern National, 2000. Long, John. Voyages and Travels of an Indian Interpreter and Trader, 1768-1791. O’Bright, Jill. The Perpetual March: An Administrative History of Effigy Mounds National Monument. Government Printing Office, 1989. Powers, Tom. Michigan State and National Parks: A Complete Guide. Friede Publications, 1993. Williams, Ralph D. A Biographical Sketch of the Lake Superior Iron Country. Pento Publishing Co., 1905. PERIODICALS Bagato, Jeff. “A Hike that’s Pure Gold.” Washington Post, November 23, 2001. Braun, Randy. “Lake Superior Monster.” www.monstertracker.com. “Captain George Rubaurge, Master of the Propeller SS. Curry . . . the Sea Serpent is not a myth.” Detroit Free Press, July 31, 1895.

368

HAUNTED HIKES

Drye, Willie. “America’s Lost Colony: Can New Dig Solve Mystery?” National Geographic News, March 2, 2004. Howard, Phillip. “The Ghosts of Springer’s Point.” www.villagecraftsman.com/news. April 3, 2003. Hoope, David. “Child of the Northwest Wind: Alice Gray and Diana of the Dunes.” Traces Magazine Indiana Historical Society 9, no. 2 (Spring 1997). Leuter, Laura. www.njdevilhunters.com. Accessed March 2005. Pill, Steve. “Beware the Windigo.” Legion Magazine, March 2001. Urbank, Vicki. “Alice Marble Gray: A Woman of the Dunes.” Chesterton Tribune, July 21, 1995. Wraga, Monica P. “Waking the Tommyknockers: Mine Said to be Haunted.” The Gazette, October 30, 2002.

ROCKY MOUNTAINS BOOKS Albright, Horace, and Frank Taylor. Oh Ranger! Stanford University, 1928. Arps, Louisa, and Elinor Kingery. High Country Names: Rocky Mountain National Park. The Colorado Mountain Club, 1966. Barr, Pat. A Curious Life for a Lady: The Story of Isabella Bird. Doubleday, 1970. Bird, Isabella. A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains. 1879. Buchholtz, C. N. Rocky Mountain National Park: A History. Colorado Associates University Press, 1983. Chubbuck, Kay, ed. Letters to Henrietta. Northeastern University Press, 2003. Djuff, Ray, and Chris Morrison. Waterton and Glacier in a Snap! Fast Facts and Titillating Trivia. Rocky Mountain Books, 2005. Gurney, Edmund, Frederick Myers, and Frank Podmore. Phantasms of the Living. The Society for Psychical Research, 1886. O’Brien, Christopher. Enter the Valley: UFOs, Religious Miracles, Cattle Mutilations, and Other Unexplained Phenomena in the San Luis Valley. St. Martin’s, 1999. Whitlesey, Lee. Death in Yellowstone: Accidents and Foolhardiness in the First National Park. Roberts Rinehart Publishers, 1995. PERIODICALS Associated Press. “Horse-Saucer Mystery Gets Even Weirder.” San Francisco Chronicle, October 19, 1967. DeSanto, Jerome S. “Missing in Glacier! The Disappearance of the Whitehead Brothers in 1924.” Montana: The Magazine of Western History, Summer 1989. Everts, Truman. “Thirty-Seven Days of Peril.” Schribners Monthly, November 1971. Stout, Kevin. “What are Booming Sands and what Causes the Sounds they Make?” Scientific American, October 20, 1997.


369

ALASKA AND CANADA BOOKS Littlejohn, Bruce, and Wayland Drew. Superior: The Haunted Shore. Firefly Books Ltd., 1995. Miller, Nancy. Remember Me as You Pass By: Stories from Prairie Graveyards. Fizhenry & Whiteside, 1994. Myers, Arthur. The Ghostly Gazetteer: America’s Most Fascinating Haunted Landmarks. McGraw Hill, 1990. Patterson, R.M. Dangerous River: Adventures on the Nahanni. Boston Mills Press, 1999. Satterfield, Archie. The Most Famous Trail in the North Chilkoot Pass: A Hiker’s Historical Guide to the Klondike Gold Rush National Historic Park. Alaska Northwest Books, 2004. Simpson, George. Narrative for a Journey Round the World During the Years of 1841 and 1842. Henry Colburn, 1847. Thornton, Thomas. Klondike Gold Rush National Historic Park: Ethnographic Overview and Assessment. NPS Publication, August 2004. PERIODICALS Dunnan, Danna. “The Bellman Helps Out.” www.burningatthegrassroots.com. Accessed September 2005. Lundberg, Mary. “The Dyea Cemetery.” www.explorenorth.com. Accessed September 2005.

PACIFIC NORTHWEST BOOKS Barcott, Bruce. The Measure of a Mountain: Beauty and Terror on Mount Rainier. Sasquatch Books, 1997. Clark, Ella E. Indian Legends of the Pacific Northwest. University of California Press, 1953. PERIODICALS Anonymous “BFRO Reports #s 1106, 1723 and 2998.” Bigfoot Research Organization, www.bfro.net. Accessed July 2005. Associated Press. “Man says he is witness to 50 year-old murder.” The Olympian, July 22, 2002. Associated Press. “Olympic peninsula man reports Bigfoot sighting.” NW Cable News, June 16, 2002. Associated Press. “A Sasquatch Alert in the Hoh Rain Forest.” Seattle Post Intelligencer, July 1, 2000.

370

HAUNTED HIKES

Conklin, Ella E. “The Lady of the Lake: Tale of the Corpse Turned to Soap Keeps Lake Crescent Bubbling with Intrigue.” Seattle Post Intelligencer, October 30, 1990. Dizon, Kristin. “Car in Lake May Solve 72 year-old Mystery.” Seattle Post Intelligencer, April 15, 2002. “I was sexually molested by a female bigfoot.” Weekly World News. March 04, 2001. Johnson, Mathew A. “File # 00234.” Oregonbigfoot.com, July 12, 2000. Komenich, Kim. “Internet Aids Long Time Search for Elusive Bigfoot.” San Francisco Examiner, August 16, 2000. Meachum, Lynette. “Tracking Sasquatch.” Bremerton Sun, July 20, 2000. Meldrum, Jeff, and Richard Greenwell. “The Redwood Tapes: Bigfoot: Take Two.” BBC Wildlife Magazine, September 1998. NPS Case Incident Report # 850678. “Search and Rescue Death, Hurricane Ridge, Geoffrey Alan Browne.” 1985 NPS Case Incident Report # 830750. “SAR-Death, Drowning, Lake Crescent, Tommy Wayne Lyons.” Parton, Nicole. “The Abandoned Bride of the Caves Chateau.” The Vancouver Sun, August 24, 1987. Smith, Lloyd, and Larry Smith. The Smith Brothers Chronological History of Crater Lake. www.drizzle.com/~rdpayne/smithbros/main.htm. Accessed February 2005. Wilson, Kimberly. “Bird watching on Rainier Turns Fatal for Writer, Editor Joe Wood.” Seattle Post Intelligencer, March 31, 2000. –––––––. “Ghosts of Rainier: A Majestic Tomb for 65 men.” Seattle Post Intelligencer, March 28, 2000.

371

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

n addition to yours truly, you can blame Haunted Hikes on two park rangers: Chris Mengel, who suggested I write about park hauntings, and Special Agent Beth Shott, who encouraged me to write a book about unsolved mysteries in national parks. While researching this book, I reconnected with old comrades and made many new friends. Although I haven’t met all of you face to face, I’m grateful to the following park employees and other witnesses who were brave enough to allow me to tell their stories and the friends, rangers, historians, cultural resource specialists, librarians, and museum curators who assisted me with my research:

I

NPS Park rangers and Special Agents: Richard Altere, New River Gorge; Neil Akana, Hawaii Volcanoes; Russ Badner, Chaco and Mesa Verde; Andy Brinkley, Big South Fork; Gary Bremen, Biscayne and Mammoth Cave; Mark Bluell, Indian Dunes; Jan Cauthorn-Page, Yellowstone; Pam Cox, Grand Canyon and Rainier; Kevin Craig, Channel Islands; Zeth Cunningham, Blue Ridge Parkway; Howard Duncan, Big South Fork; Fred Elchlepp, Yosemite; Tom Farrell, Wind Cave; Chris Fors, Joshua Tree and AT Vermont; Stu Fritts, Grand Canyon; Rita Garcia, Petrified Forest; K.J. Glover, Grand Canyon; Scott Hinson, Lake Mead, Yosemite, and Hawaii Volcanoes; Mary Hinson, Hawaii Volcanoes, Lake Mead, and Yosemite; Dave Hadjck, Natchez Trace; Dan Horner, Yosemite; Andrea Joseph, Virgin Islands; Phyliss Kachinhongva, Grand Canyon; Jan Kirwan, Crater Lake and Hawaii Volcanoes; Larry Lang, Olympic; Erik Leonard, Big Bend; Keith Lober, Yosemite; Sanny Lustig, Rainier; Helen McNutt, Great Smoky Mountains; Jeff Ohlfs, Joshua Tree; Mike O’Neil, Virgin Islands; Larry Nickey, Olympic; Colleen O’Connor Olson, Mammoth Cave; Billie Patrick, Yosemite; Brent Pennington, Blue Ridge Parkway; Sharon Ringsvien, Haleakala and Hawaii Volcanoes; George Roberts, Channel Islands; Beth Shott, Lake Mead and Death Valley; Tim Simonds, Olympic; Brian Smith, Yellowstone; Lloyd Smith, Crater Lake; Marlon Smith, Everglades; Pat Suddath, Glacier and Joshua Tree; Jeff Sullivan, Yosemite; Dave VanInwagen, Big Bend; Bil Vandergraff, Grand Canyon; Monica “Moonshine” Woll, Everglades and Biscayne. NPS historians, archeologists, and cultural resource specialists: Tom Des Jean, Big South Fork; Karl Gurcke, Klondike Gold Rush; Marie Prentice, Tallahassee, Florida; Janice Slupski, Indiana Dunes; Liz Valencia, Isle Royale; Tom Lee Whitlesey, Yellowstone. NPS museum curators and librarians: Ann Fagre, Glacier; Kim Besom, Grand Canyon; Katy Miller, New River Gorge; Scott Williams, Petrified Forest. Sources outside the NPS: Barbie and Andy Bigelow, Hawaii Volcanoes; Joe

372

HAUNTED HIKES

Dean, Oregon Caves Chateau; Ray Djuff, Glacier and Waterton; Mike Harding, Grand Canyon; Thomas Katz, Grand Canyon; Bob Kisthart, Yellowstone; Joe Latva, Oregon Caves Chateau; Laura Leuter, New Jersey Pinelands; Maxine Johnson, Big Thicket Natural History Association; Remona Ann McMillion, New River Gorge; Mike and Donna Mercier, Everglades; Melanie Pergeil, Grand Canyon; Leslie J. Quinn, Yellowstone Institute. A big thanks to the photographers who so generously shared their photographs with us. Thank you also to the map artists, Rob Hasick, Amy Inouye, and Elizabeth McCallie, and to Brittany Yudkowsky for her editorial assistance. I’ve relied upon the good nature of the following people more than they know. My neighbor, Karen Behnke, for throwing food to Dogzilla while I was off ghost hunting. My friend and mentor, writer Deanne Stillman, for all her advice and inspiration and for keeping me company in Room 8. My mother-in-law, Judy Delbon, for babysitting her alien-canine hybrid “granddaughter” and keeping our karma good with Maximon. My mother, Patricia Lankford, who listened to me whine and moan, and awarded me a writer “grant.” I may not have made it out alive, if not for the intrepid publisher of Santa Monica Press, Jeffrey Goldman, who had the courage to follow my gleaming machete and twitching eye into an uncharted forest of quirky waters and tangled prose. And I was extremely fortunate to have the services of my very own man-inblack, the handsome Special Agent Kent Delbon of the U.S. Secret Service, who played the Scully to my Mulder, shared his snooping expertise, and backed me up at Barker Ranch.

—ANDREA LANKFORD

373

PHOTO CREDITS California and Hawaii pages 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 26, 27 Dan Horner pages 34, 44, 46, 47, 48, 52, 53, 54, 55 Andrea Lankford pages 41, 43 Kent Delbon Desert Southwest pages 68, 68 Scott Morrison pages 75, 106, 107, 109,110 Jeff Blaylock, www.jeffblaylock.com pages 81, 91, 92, 94 courtesy NPS Deep South pages 118, 119, 120, 129 courtesy NPS page 130 Reginald Lagow page 135 Mark Hamilton Quinn, www.adventuresafaris.net page 137 Mike Mercier page 141 Monica McManus Woll page 144 David Shealy page 147 Cora-Marie Reuter Eastern Mountains pages 154, 155, 164, 174 Andrea Lankford page 156 courtesy First National Bank of Oneida page 158 courtesy Jimmy Barna pages 161, 162 Gerald C. Williamson page 163 James Robert Smith page 171 courtesy Brian Irish / Joshua P. Warren, www.BrownMountainLights.com page 181 courtesy FBI page 187 courtesy NPS pages 191, 192 Historic photo collection, Harpers Ferry NHP

pages 196, 197 Kent Delbon pages 201, 202, 203, 205, 206 courtesy NPS Northeast and Mid Atlantic pages 212, 213, 215, 216, 217, Teressa Williams, www.teressawilliams.com page 221 Atlantic County Historical Society page 223 Peter von Puttkamer, taken for the “Monster Hunters” series produced by Gryphon Productions Ltd., www.gryphonproductions.com pages 226, 227, 234, 243 courtesy NPS page 242 Jonathan Hopper, www.Pasty.com Rocky Mountains pages 252, 253 Narayan Sengupta page 259 UPI wirephoto pages 260, 261, 276 Jeff Blaylock page 265 Audie Alcorn page 275 Scribner’s Monthly, 1871 page 286 courtesy NPS Canada and Alaska pages 292, 293, 315 Johanna Wandel pages 297, 298 Narayan Sengupta pages 306, 309 courtesy NPS Pacific Northwest pages 319, 320, 325, 327, 328, 329, 331, 334, 335, 340, 343, 351, 353, 357, 358 Andrea Lankford pages 332, 338, 339, 345 Kent Delbon page 355 Lloyd Smith

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Haunted Hikes: Spine-Tingling Tales and Trails from North America's National Parks

America's National Historic Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Tales and Trails of Wakarusa

Our National Parks

America's National Historic Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Tales Of Lonely Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Ghost Whispers- Tales from Haunted Midway

Reconstructing Fort Union (National Parks)

Tales Of Lonely Trails (1996)

Our Haunted House (SCARY TALES)

Colorado: A Guide to the State & National Parks (State & National Parks Series)

National Parks: The American Experience, Fourth Edition

Frommer's Zion & Bryce Canyon National Parks

Frommer's National Parks of the American West

Frommer's National Parks of the American West

Discover National Monuments: National Parks (Discover Your World)

Oregon & Washington: A Guide to the State & National Parks (State & National Parks Series)

New England: A Guide to the State & National Parks (State & National Parks Series)

Frommer's Yellowstone & Grand Teton National Parks

America's National Battlefield Parks: A Guide

Frommer's National Parks with Kids (Park Guides)

Fodor's Yellowstone & Grand Teton National Parks

Blood Trails

Blood Trails

Rough Trails

Tangled Trails

Twisted Trails

Haunted Hikes: Spine-Tingling Tales and Trails from North America's National Parks

America's National Historic Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Tales and Trails of Wakarusa

Our National Parks

America's National Historic Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Tales Of Lonely Trails

Tales of Lonely Trails

Ghost Whispers- Tales from Haunted Midway

Reconstructing Fort Union (National Parks)

Tales Of Lonely Trails (1996)

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