I totally forgot about this story, and I have to tell it. I grew up near Mohican State Park. I know the trails like the back of my hand, all except for one. This trail goes between the two campground in the actual park connecting them. I found out about this trail in high school while doing a vernal pool unit in a class, but wanted to go exploring one day myself.
I can't remember if this was in college or high school. All I remember is that it was summer. Now back when my brother and I had time during our summers we used to go hiking a lot together. This particular day I asked him if he wanted to go on an adventure. He looked at me skeptically and said "I guess," and off we went.
Now this trail is located in the well know Gorge, following the river that flows through it. We parked at Camp B over by the covered bridge and made our way through the trail. At this time the trail really needed love. You could tell not very many people track this part of the park. Native plants threatened to grow over the trail, and claim their territories. Old bridges hung in disrepair, but we were still able to cross. There was no way of knowing what part of the Gorge we were at. We just knew we were in the Gorge.
Now I've heard some sketchy things in the forest to make me wonder about the noise. That day was no exception. We got to a certain point and started hearing a banjo. We both looked at each other, and wondered if we were going to have a deliverance scene on our hands. It was not uncommon for people to kayak themselves down the river this way, or tube. Not uncommon for fly fisherman to track down the river. We were far enough from the civilization of the park to assume we were the only souls around. The sound was eerie as I suggested that maybe we were close to the Gorge overlook. We both agreed though, that we wouldn't think the sound would be kind of close if it was. The overlook is pretty far from the river. This didn't sound that far.
Leaving our spooky banjo noise behind us we decided to still trek on. The pines started to gather around us. A sign we were close to Campground A. We were close enough that we could see the cabins across the river. Of course my brother and I decided would be a good time to scare a few tourists and make some sasquatch noises. Yes, we are those kinds of locals. We were hidden enough that it confused the people as to where the sounds were coming from, and soon they walked away from the river. We just laughed as we were satisfied with how things played out.
We never made it to the end of the trail. The creepy was yet to come. We hadn't seen a soul on the trail until we came across an older couple once we were close to camp A. Usually people did their niceities by saying a brief hello, but not these two. They both stared. Not like the normal weirdo stare. This is your typical horror movie, grandma is possessed stare. It gave us the chills. My brother suggested we turn back after that encounter. I wanted to keep going, but couldn't help but agree with him. If the creepy murdery looking couple was still on the trail I didn't want any part of it.
When we getting ready to pass them again they were stopped on the trail looking at something. They had no hesitation in moving their attention to us again once we were close. Same blank stares. Heads moving with us. We walked a little faster to make sure there was a good distance between us and the couple. I didn't want to have a story on the news "Teens bodies found by Clear Fork River." That was by far the creepiest encounters on a trail I have ever had. I haven't gone back to that trail even though there is a little more traffic now a days. It has been the only trail to ever rub me the wrong way, and for that I have not gone back.
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