Twelve years after a younger man vanished, a grouse hunter returns to the identical woods—and finds one thing ready.
This story initially appeared within the fall 2024 situation of Challenge Upland Journal.
Because the years progressed, I’ve traveled to many alternative locations within the wilderness, every with its personal distinct ambiance. That may be a free time period for the vitality they emit, however I feel you perceive what I imply.
Some locations I received’t hassle to call have struck a critical wave of worry into me after sure occasions transpired, however that’s not the norm. Solely two have ever given the impression that they might eat me if given the chance. One such place is the woods surrounding the banks of a river within the Temagami wilderness, and the opposite is a provincial park in south-central Ontario.
The previous has a nasty behavior of constructing individuals disappear over the a long time, but it surely’s completely scenic, holds some unimaginable trout fishing, and is a backcountry paddler’s moist dream. The latter is, so far as anybody can inform, nothing however a tract of comparatively untouched Canadian Protect with its personal protecting designation. An individual can nonetheless hunt grouse there or catch their restrict of bluegills in the event that they’re keen to canoe into it. But, its forests maintain extra thriller than anything inside simple driving distance.
In 2007, these woods swallowed a 20-year-old outdoorsman and by no means spit him out. It grew to become one of many wildest conspiracies this author has ever heard.
Dillon Mews disappeared in late October on a solo tenting journey that ought to have been as routine as something. Nevertheless, one thing went fallacious someplace alongside the way in which. When he didn’t return house, the place his father anticipated his arrival, a search social gathering was assembled. Monitoring canines couldn’t choose up his scent wherever previous the place he’d parked his Ford Ranger alongside the lonely highway skirting the sting of the parklands, and shortly his identify was merely a whisper in a crowd of people that may say one thing like, “Do not forget that younger man who vanished?”
What struck me as unusual was that the incident had little to no native press protection. It felt swept below the rug; out of sight, out of thoughts. The police and park rangers spent, in whole, lower than 36 hours on the lookout for him earlier than calling off the search. They by no means discovered a lot as a hint of him.
Nearly twelve years later, the entire thing nonetheless lingers at the back of my thoughts. That is largely as a result of an in depth buddy knowledgeable me of the exact whereabouts Dillon was rumored to have deliberate to camp: the highest finish of Fairview Lake. This, it turned out, was truly an space I’d virtually hunted earlier than, however a creek stood in the way in which of getting there. Traditionally, that creek had been my turn-around level.
The place was, as I’d found over time, loaded with snowshoe hare and ruffed grouse. I knew through satellite tv for pc picture that the highest finish of the lake had a protracted, low, flat space. There, willow saplings met sparse cedar stands combined with hemlock, indicating {that a} huge beaver marsh was there lengthy earlier than I began visiting the park. A spot with that form of habitat has critical potential. The extra I considered that potential and the way a lot I really like an excellent thriller, I began to concoct a plan to stand up there and hike waders in with me. That manner, I might cross the creek, camp out, and discover the realm for a few nights.
In hindsight, I think that I used to be asking for hassle earlier than even stepping foot on the opposite aspect of the creek. In spite of everything, this was allegedly the place a well-reputed, extremely skilled, notably athletic particular person had vanished with no hint. His gear was by no means discovered, and issues had a really ominous really feel about them. Going there for 3 days of solo small recreation looking by no means occurred to me as being a probably harmful factor, even after listening to all of the theories as to how and why Dillon went lacking. Rumors ranged from mafia involvement, Bigfoot, predatory black bear assaults, aliens, and anything that match the invoice.
It was late October once I lastly made the three-mile hike to the underside of Fairview Lake, donned the waders, crossed the creek, and adopted the shoreline to the highest finish the place the little previous beaver meadow sat all brown and beige. I’d began the morning trek as early as potential to permit for some looking time as soon as camp was arrange and sufficient firewood had been gathered. A tarp was erected to shelter the cooking space within the doubtless occasion of late October rain. By 3 p.m., I headed north with a shotgun to search for dinner.
That evening was when issues started to occur that I nonetheless can’t clarify however can describe.
I turned in for the evening after a dinner of canned soup, having sat round my tiny campfire to learn for a few hours and take heed to the night breeze die down as darkness crept in. Sleep got here rapidly after I crawled into my sleeping bag, clicked off my headlamp, and gave in to the quietness with out a lot as a fear on the earth.
With a rush of adrenaline, I woke to what appeared like a voice muttering one thing not too removed from the tent. As I sat up, the scratchy sleeping bag cloth sounded obnoxiously loud till I used to be fully upright and totally nonetheless as soon as once more.
My wristwatch learn shortly earlier than 2 a.m. That’s an odd time for anybody to be out wandering round wherever, not to mention a number of miles right into a trailless wilderness. I listened once more when the voice, hushed and muffled, got here from somebody strolling by the tall grasses within the meadow. The considered having my shotgun loaded by no means crossed my thoughts, and I left the firearm within the tent as I emerged, headlamp on, to see who the misplaced traveler was.
Now, you in all probability know the way this goes, however after getting my boots and coat on because the frost glittered within the shiny stream of the headlamp, I discovered no discernible indicators of anybody ever having come near camp, regardless of the frost having lined every thing so thickly. Nonetheless, having been so certain that I’d heard somebody, I known as out a loud, echoing, “Is anybody on the market?” into the evening.
After a momentary pause, a lone coyote answered from an untold distance away earlier than the darkness engulfed all sounds completely. I acquired the hearth going once more, if for no different motive than to create a beacon of sunshine for anybody who may be stumbling round at the hours of darkness, however exhaustion discovered me as soon as once more not more than two hours later. By that point, I figured that anybody inside earshot would have proven up by now, so I crawled again into my sleeping bag to salvage no matter sleep I might.
By the point daybreak broke, I used to be already totally dressed, had eaten breakfast, and packed my issues for a day afield. That day was uneventful, aside from a few pictures taken at flushing ruffed grouse, one in all which ended up within the vest, the opposite of which didn’t. The evening’s unexplainable occasions always replayed again and again in my head; I wasn’t precisely paying consideration the way in which I ought to have been.
By late afternoon, my GPS indicated I used to be simply far sufficient away from camp that returning earlier than darkish was out of the query. Not eager to waste time, I powered again to the lakeshore north of camp and adopted it south to the creek that flows into Fairview Lake, a protracted 4 miles away. From there, camp could be only a brief jaunt. The route alongside the shore and creek was unfamiliar territory, but it surely was additionally the trail of least resistance as greatest as I might inform.
All went effectively, and with that grouse nonetheless at the back of my vest, visions of fire-roasted grouse with baked beans made my abdomen growl. Within the overpowering darkness, the creek finally gave technique to Fairview Lake. From there, I appeared within the path of my camp within the previous beaver meadow and was completely shocked to see the glow of a small campfire illuminating my camp. I used to be sure I doused my morning fireplace earlier than I left, not eager to be the reason for the “nice wildfires of late October,” however that was additionally virtually eight hours in the past. There wasn’t sufficient wooden left on the coals within the first place to have stored it going this lengthy.
Admittedly, I casually unslung my shotgun and slowly walked into camp. A contemporary pile of wooden reduce from downed branches was piled up on the other aspect of the hearth from my tent, the mushy floor revealing prints from a single set of naked toes. Once I positioned my boot subsequent to them, they might have been someplace between a measurement 10 and 10.5.
The tracks by no means went close to the tent, nor might I see any discernible signal of trainers, sneakers, or another form of footwear. There was no hint of somebody truly cooking, no trash left behind, and no indication that they’d tried to go away some type of communication about their intentions or whether or not they’d be coming again.
To place it politely, I used to be fully and totally distressed. I had the uncontrollable urge to go away camp proper then and there, to hike out at the hours of darkness, again to my automobile and the protection of civilization. I might all the time come again with others to get well my equipment, and even when I couldn’t, there wasn’t one merchandise I’d be abandoning that I couldn’t substitute. Why even danger sticking round with no matter was occurring?
Ultimately, although, maybe by exhaustion or starvation, I started to calm myself sufficient to operate critically and logically. In spite of everything, there was nonetheless a contemporary grouse to be cooked and a can of baked beans to be positioned near the coals. If anybody was coming again, it appeared doubtless that they’d in all probability be pleasant, possibly even good firm. People who find themselves keen to hike by the backcountry with no path besides the one they carve for themselves are, usually, good-natured people.
Staying awake after filling my abdomen was tough, however the highly effective feeling that I might have a customer once more that evening, invisible or in any other case, was sufficient to maintain me on my toes because the temperature fell and the hearth burned. I used to be heat sufficient to handle the chilly air, and within the very backside of my climbing bag was one lonesome beer I’d hauled in as a celebration of my final evening out within the woods. It was ice chilly and went down easy, however shortly thereafter, I nodded off.
Within the glow of a dying fireplace, my shotgun unloaded and leaning towards the one stump inside fifty yards of camp, a voice spoke out of the darkness and woke me. To my proper, a tall younger man stood, sporting a blue plaid long-sleeved shirt and climbing pants, pack loaded with gear, however standing simply far sufficient again that the hearth didn’t totally illuminate his face.
“I’ve to be trustworthy; I wasn’t anticipating to see anybody else out right here, particularly tonight,” he stated to me.
“That makes two of us,” I replied. “Should you’re circled, you’re greater than welcome to pitch right here for the evening. I don’t thoughts one bit.”
He appeared out towards the lake behind me, then down at his boots. “I respect the provide, however I feel I would push additional again towards the creek.”
I couldn’t assist it; I requested if he was the one who stored my fireplace going earlier and was beneficiant sufficient to carry the small pile of firewood, too.
He appeared puzzled and kind of squinted his eyes as he stared on the assortment of lifeless wooden, then turned again towards me and informed me he wasn’t fairly certain. A puzzling and weird response, I believed. I pressed a bit extra.
“How lengthy have you ever been out right here?” I requested.
The younger man stood there, seemingly excited about it, and shrugged. That very same puzzled look graced his face as soon as once more earlier than he stuttered, “I gotta say, I’m truly not fairly certain of that, both.”
Neither of us stated something for a second after that. He stood there, a distressed look on his face, seemingly attempting to place the items of a shattered thoughts again collectively, attempting to recall in his head the solutions to the questions I had requested him.
“Dillon?” I requested quietly.
He checked out me from the sting of the darkness with such confusion, with a contact of shock and bewilderment, whereas a powerful breeze rustled the tall lifeless grass within the meadow. I glanced over within the path the breeze was coming from, and the air blowing towards my uncovered eyes made me blink. Once I opened my eyes, the hearth was nothing however a set of faint glowing embers. The breeze was gone. I used to be fully alone.
I stood up, figuring I’d dreamt all of it, and resigned myself to the sleeping bag and rolled sweater pillow, however sleep by no means did discover me that evening. Mendacity there on my again, fingers behind my head, I replayed the dream again and again, closing my eyes and seeing all of it unfold as actual because the tent that surrounded me. The shotgun was locked and cased, secure.
That evening nonetheless stays the longest silence I’ve ever identified. Not a breeze whispered, nor was there a lot as a riffle on the floor of the lake. No animals made any sounds. Simply shiny stars shimmering so shiny I might see them by the fly of the tent if I held my breath; the heat of my exhales momentarily obstructed the view.
The following morning, I packed up camp after standing within the actual spot I’d been certain I’d had a dialog with a ghost the evening earlier than, on the lookout for any indicators of the encounter however developing empty. With my pack loaded, I doused the hearth with mud and dust earlier than heading towards the creek. The shotgun had its shells, and I totally meant to hunt my manner out of there in a protracted, arcing route that will take me by prime grouse habitat. If nothing else, looking would assist to maintain my ideas from working wild with the evening’s occasions. At that time, that was all I wished.
I reached the creek and, virtually stereotypically, I needed to look again at my campsite. I anticipated to see the ghost of Dillon Mews standing there, observing me with some kind of unhappy envy that I acquired the privilege of leaving whereas his haunted soul stayed put on this lonely place. However, after all, once I glanced again, nobody was there.
That was greater than sufficient closure for me.
I’ve by no means felt the overwhelming urge to return to Fairview Lake or that park. Not due to a worry of the supernatural or having to relive what will need to have been an unfathomably lucid dream at the hours of darkness and stillness of a wild place. Actually, I suppose there’s not any motive specifically. Once I cross alongside the borders of that park each once in a while, I’m left to surprise about the actual motive I went looking again there in any respect.
The submit The Ghost of Dillon Mews appeared first on Challenge Upland.
