It is so easy to miss extraordinary places in our day to day lives. We all have our comfortable routines and often carry about our schedules with our heads down and a narrow focus. It is very easy to forget to pause for a breath and take in our surroundings. If you do you may just find that something that may seem mundane at first glance is full of rich history and intrigue. Such was the case for myself and a seemingly innocuous range of trap rock ridges that line central Connecticut.
Having spent most of my life in CT I figured I had seen most of what the state had to offer. In my teenage years with the freedom of a drivers license I still only scratched the surface. I had driven past The Hanging Hills in Meridian CT hundreds of times. My father used to work off I691 and right before his exit I would see the silhouette of a small stone tower looming atop a ridge line adjacent to the highway. Now at the time my younger self was more preoccupied with the dramas of high school and the routine of schoolwork that I never made it a priority to explore. That is, until now!
On my most recent visit back home, I like to pass the time listening to podcasts. On long trips, especially when driving alone, this really helps pass the time and makes the atmosphere a little less lonely. I recently have been working my way through the series Lore by Aaron Mahnke. Lore is an award-winning, critically-acclaimed podcast about true life scary stories. Lore exposes the darker side of history, exploring the creatures, people, and places of our wildest nightmares. Aaron has a wonderful storytelling ability and his historically grounded tales are just the right amount of unsettling. If you have not yet checked them out I encourage you to do so here.
Episode 136: The Third Time talks about a geologist on a research expedition to The Hanging Hills who encounters a black dog on the trail who accompanies him throughout his journey there. After his day in the woods with a friendly companion the geologist learns from a colleague that the dog is a common sight, often gregarious in nature, which leaves no footprints and makes no sound but with an ominous legend attached to it. It is said that in these hills, to see the Black Dog the first time results in joy while a second sighting is a warning. Seeing the Black Dog a third time is said to be a death omen.
The trail head starts on the south side i691 in Hubbard Park, in a small dirt parking lot on the northwest side of the colonial masonry lined duck pond. While worn and weathered the carved map at the entrance felt odd when you are so used to seeing the standardized writing of the state parks department. We picked our heading and heading along the the wood adjacent to the highway, already the woods seem dead when all you can hear is the roar of the motorway stirring the air.
As the trail approaches the crossing you are rather abruptly greeted by these tall yellow bollards. Their battered south face seems to allude to ageing construction.
The low height of bridge walk way provided no shelter from the rush following every vehicle barreling down the highway. As you stepped further across, each pocket of air slaps in to your chest and your legs sway as walkway bounces and breaths.
The chain-link rattles in time with the rhythm of the road. Thoughts of the black dog cross my mind as I cross this abrasive threshold. Not long into our trip we are already getting the sense these woods were inhospitable. Now a beautiful l sunny day in Connecticut will always draw those to seek the outdoors and I always expect to pass a few friendly hikers along the way. However as soon as we regained our composure after the bridge a teen and his black dog walked by and crossed behind us. I shrugged it off, it was gorgeous out I was sure it wouldn’t be the last dog owner I saw out for a walk. Besides the dogs behavior didn’t fit the description from the tale, but I couldn’t help be a little on edge after that.
As you follow the trail upward you are greeted by these stone alters, that line the trail adding to the mounting uneasy feeling and creepy factor.
Further along the trail it gains elevation rather quickly, what was a nice stroll through the silent woods, became stair master power hour. The craggy rocks jut together to form a long staircase up to the side of the mountain road. The road itself looks rather old and crack have shown through the weathered pavement. The parking lot at the end leads straight to Castel Craig which towers above the highway and city below. From east peak, Castel Craig has the distinction of being the highest point within 25 miles (40 km) of the coast from Maine to Florida.
On a clear day you can see for miles, well worth the climb. This relatively short hike made for a great afternoon. I encourage you to explore your area more as there is strange history and interesting places all around. The black dog may roam these hills and I may have just gotten lucky. Either way it afforded me the chance to see a part of the state that had remained hidden in plain sight while I was growing up here. For that I pray I never see it so that I can continue to enjoy this beautifully eerie trail.
