The following account was a quick trip Back to the Past for the fellow writing of his experience. Some TWIDDERS last minutes only; just long enough to leave us drop-jawed and scratching our heads! (Original posting at http://www.phenomenalog.com/en/index.php?mod=articles&id=167.)
My friends and I used to camp in an area known as Bacon Woods; this is near my hometown of Lorain, Ohio. The area has been known for years for strange occurrences, but I dunno how to even classify this one….
It was June, 1980, and we had been out in the woods for a day, on a weekend camp out. There were four of us, myself, Dave, Frank, and Fernando, enjoying the time away from the city.
The campsite we used then was near a spring, which was at the top of a ridge, or cliff, about eighty feet or so high-we’d bring along gallon milk jugs, and fill them as needed. That afternoon, Dave and I, carrying three jugs each on straps, were clambering up the trail leading to the top.
The cliff was built sort of like a bracket fungus, with shelf-like projections of varying sizes projecting out, the trail winding past them.
As we came upon one of the larger shelves, we were greeted by a “Hello!” from two guys having a cookout on the shelf. They were about our ages, late twenties, white, dressed in t-shirts, shorts, and sneakers, and shades. On the shelf with them was a cooler full of ice and beer, a boom-box playing metal, and two chaise lounges, upon which they were lounging. In a pit in the center, there was a fire going.
We greeted them back, and headed up the trail, figuring to maybe stop back later, after we dropped off the water. It took us, roughly, three minutes to reach the spring, and maybe five minutes to fill the six jugs. So, a little over ten minutes until Dave and I were standing there, scratching our heads….
The shelf was bare, and looked as if it had been for some time.
The two guys, and all their stuff was gone. In the center, the fire pit sat, cold, dark….and bone-dry.