The Power of Suggestion

November at Hillman State Park, aka Bavington Game Lands: my constant retreat.

At a dinner party last evening, an acquaintance asked me where I do most of my hiking.  I told him that lately I've been pretty much restricted to the little-known Hillman State Park.  He asked, a little incredulously, "Do you go out there alone?"  When I told him that I do, he said, "The woods is kind of spooky out there, isn't it?"  My reply was dismissive.  "Oh, poorly reclaimed strip mines are always kind of spooky.  It's a beautiful place."  He wasn't convinced.  Then my acquaintance proceeded to tell me about a friend of his who won't ride his mountain bike at Hillman anymore because the last time he was there by himself, he got the distinct and frightening impression that he was being chased by someone he couldn't see.  

Of course, I explore "eerie" places just for fun.  If you're frightened by bleak countryside and rundown buildings, then Southwest Pennsylvania is no place for you.  You'd have to stick to a few brightly lit suburban shopping centers and upscale neighborhoods, but these too are beleaguered islands in a sea of old towns, old factories, old countryside.  Some of it's scenic--even lovely--but especially from November through April, much of this region is a little ghostly.  And so, as I explored a new area of Hillman today, I couldn't help but find it just a little bit spookier than usual.  I guess it's just the power of suggestion.  

It always sounds as if there's someone following you in the woods in late autumn.  Leaves fall.  Animals rattle the dry vegetation on the ground.  The wind blows.  I only chanced across three cyclists on the trails today, despite the fine weather.  It was a little creepy, but I enjoyed the "exposed" feel of crossing large, grassy clearings and leafless gray woods.  Every season has its beauty, and every place does, too...if your eyes are open to it.