Halloween hike to mysterious Max Creek

</element><element id="paragraph-1" type="body"><![CDATA[Leading a group in the Shawnee National Forest at night, after a winter and spring that has knocked trees over trails, for a 4-mile loop hike, in an area reputed to be haunted, where people have hurt their ankles in broad daylight and where people have become disoriented could sound irresponsible.

But I've done it before, and the head count was the same when we finished as when we began.

It has already appeared in print: I'm leading the hike to Max Creek again on Halloween night, so it's too late to consider logistics now.

The last time our River to River Trail Society took this hike was a rainy Halloween in 2005. We did a shortened version of it, only walking down to the creek and back up. This year it looks like we are doing the longer loop trail and the hiking could get really interesting.

I've hiked the loop at night before and my flashlight went dead before Ryan Brasier and I reached the car. Brasier's flashlight was dim orange, but emitted enough light to decipher a trail. All who plan to go on the hike need to be sure to put new batteries in the flashlight or headlamp and bring extra batteries.

The Max Creek furor has died down in recent years.

For a while, the Max Creek Vortex was the buzz all over Southern Illinois and the tales I heard became more outlandish the farther away from Max Creek I went. The vortex was spraining ankles, messing with female cycles, causing elation and fascinating everyone, except most of those who went down there with me.

With a few exceptions, everyone else sniffed and said, "What's the big deal?"

Six people who have hiked in with me claim to have sensed something out of the ordinary there, and I've sensed it myself twice out of dozens of hikes in.

Something interesting did happen Halloween of 2005. There were probably 20 of us gathered at the creek with our flashlights off. We shared stories about different places people claim to be haunted.

I had already told the crowd about the blue, pink and yellow mineral lights the size of ping-pong balls said to have floated around Max Creek. I was about to tell them about the gold coins said to have been in the creek and the buried treasure up under a rose bush. These tales came from Lorene Schell who grew up in the area before the houses there were razed and the land purchased to become part of the Shawnee National Forest.

Someone in the crowd on the bank mentioned seeing a mysterious glowing light. No one else could see it. Someone suggested the light was the glow of the luminous paint on the hands of someone's watch, but the watch owner held out his wrist and it did not glow.

Everybody looked around thinking pesky mineral lights or ghost lights were hiding behind trees.

Then I saw a faint green glow somewhere close to the ground. It disappeared. Somebody else said they saw one. Then, as I recall it, the creek bed lit up with dozens of green lights and, to my disappointment, I recognized them as glow worms, the larvae of lightning bugs.

A youth went into the creek and picked one up for us all to examine.

Ho hum.

There is no telling what might happen on the Halloween hike this year. There may be a bunch of weirdos along, as the Max Creek tales have snowballed across the state. There may be nobody. But if there are any fireworks, I hope we'll have a crowd there to witness it.

I have been criticized for writing about strange phenomena at Max Creek. Two people have suggested that I am party to a conspiracy to promote fabrications about Max Creek as a contrived tourist draw. There also was talk of legal action several years ago regarding the publishing of names of families said to have been Max Creek residents. My source retracted her statements.

Max Creek is about the wackiest place in the woods I know of, if not for geological anomalies or supernatural activity then for unexpected controversy.

All I've done is listen to stories relayed by visitors and have written what they have said. I have experienced strangeness in the place and have been with others who have.

I've also taken some very good photos of the rock formations that jut from the creek's cold swimming hole. Unfortunately, the computer that stored the digital images crashed after I printed one copy.

For anyone reckless enough to come hiking with me and the River to River Trail Society, we convene 6:30 p.m. Oct. 31 at the Taylor Ridge Church parking lot a couple of miles or so south of Tunnel Hill on U.S. Route 45 in Johnson County and will caravan from the church to the trailhead.

-- DeNeal is a staff writer for The Daily Register in Harrisburg, Ill., and The Daily Journal, Ill. He may be contacted at 253-7146 ext. 230 or by e-mail at bdeneal@yourclearwave.com.