Another great Halloween night hike
</element><element id="paragraph-1" type="body"><![CDATA[The sound of crunching gravel roused me from my sleep. I sat up in my sleeping bag in the chill of Saturday's pre-dawn, a frightened and muzzy-headed caterpillar.
This had happened once before camping in an exposed trailhead. You never get used to the sight of headlights approaching while you sit on the ground, hoping to be spotted before having to roll out of the path.
Vicky was beside me in her own sleeping bag, slowly awakening and detecting a tone of panick in my voice when I told her someone was driving up.
The headlights were coming too fast to the dead end of Taylor Ridge Lane, also the trailhead of Max Creek. The vehicle made a sharp left turn and parked.
A large man wearing a long, dark coat exited the car. He held a black garbage bag and he walked toward us.
The evening had been a success for the River to River Trail Society hikers, for the most part. Leading 49 people in varying states of fitness on the 4-mile loop hike in the dark is rife with opportunity for injured ankles and knees. Add in the effects of the evening dew on the mossy creek rocks and the risk increases. Add in it is Halloween night and the stage is set for the hike leader's reputation to sink into one of irresponsible at best, sadistic at worst.
There was only one emergency. One woman did fall and bang her knee on a rock. With the support of her friends, family and Vicky who knew the trail, she returned to her car disappointed she could not complete the hike.
The glow worms were again in the creek. They are the larva of lightning bugs that seem to always be glowing a soft, green light in Max Creek on Halloween nights.
I told the story of a haunted house there prior to the land's purchase by the federal government building a National Forest system. The sound like a log chain tossed down the stairs awakened the family and scared the dog so bad he never did return.
There are reports of mineral lights that mysteriously float around in Max Creek, but none have been reported -- at least to me -- in recent decades. The closest I've found to mineral lights are the glow worms.
The "vortex" there that has produced feelings of dizziness in some people did seem to have an effect on one woman in the group. She told me her name and I forgot it. She said a feeling of nausea accompanied her dizziness and that she has had the same uncomfortable sensation in the past when riding her horse through Max Creek.
Aside from the four who left with the limping woman, I heard no complaints and only praise for the evening. When we returned John O'Dell's bonfire was blazing and Eric Johnson broke out two packages of marshmallows for roasting.
The fire was too inviting not to camp beside it for the night. Vicky and I had planned to backpack the 2 miles to a more secluded campsite following the hike, but we settled for the trailhead with its ready-made campfire.
We roasted smoked sausage and listened to the coyotes as the temperature dropped to about 40 degrees. The stars were bright. The barred owls called softly.
"This has been a wonderful Halloween," I thought as I drifted into sleep with no inkling I would be awakened by a large stranger wheeling madly into our camp carrying a garbage bag, with something heavy in the bottom of it.
But there we were and there he was and it was time to figure out his intentions.
"Hello?" I called.
"Howdy, howdy," Sam Stearns said coming into view.
It turned out the bag my friend carried contained nothing like a severed human head for disposal in the creepy, coppery water of the old well just down the trail; it contained half a squash pie and a loaf of cinnamon banana bread for our breakfast refreshment.
Stearns said he had intended the benevolent prank of quietly dropping our breakfast off at our previously planned campsite down at the creek. His plan was for us to scratch our heads over the Breakfast Fairy that had visited while we slept. He was as alarmed to see me on the ground directly in front of his headlights as I was to see them. But what is a little stark terror to begin the day among friends?
Stearns drove away and Vicky and I returned to sleep. After a couple of hours of rest we enjoyed the Breakfast Fairy's gift.
My only regret was that I did not bring a camera. I knew there was no point in trying to photograph the night hike, but did not realize the leaves would be the brilliant yellows they had become by early morning.
-- DeNeal is a staff writer for the Daily Register in Harrisburg, Ill., and the Daily Journal in Eldorado, Ill. He may be contacted by e-mail at bdeneal@yourclearwave.com or at (618) 253-7146.