Frogs Pond
Posted: 10 May 2014, 01:01Over 35 years ago we would sometimes camp and swim at a place the locals called Frogs Pond, probably for all the frogs that lived there.
Having no parking area, the only way we could get there was to be dropped off with our gear and supplies at the entrance of an old mostly overgrown dirt road which led through about a mile of thick tangled woods.
Strange occurrences began on our second trip there and continued up until our last. After getting dropped off there we began hoofing all our gear to the pond, but heard something strange along the way. Off to our side in the thick foliage we heard something moving along with us. A few seconds after we stopped to listen, it would halt as well only to continue on with us just short of the pond. We called whatever it was - ‘Walks Beside Us’ or just ‘Walker’. Walker never harmed us and we had come to accept it as a resident of these woods. We could never figure out how someone or something traversed through the thick tangled underbrush growing on both sides of that old dirt road.
Our last trip there three of us as usual were accompanied by Walker almost to the pond where we made camp, did some swimming, made a decent fire, had supper and proceeded to revel a bit, having brought in some booze. One of our party drank way too much, got sick and passed out leaving two of us left enjoying the early summer night and the sound of thousands of frogs chirping or trilling.
Just after we turned in for the night we heard a lot of noise coming from down the old dirt road. Exiting the tent we could hear people yelling. Braving the dark and overgrown dirt road we went part of the way back to the drop off point and saw the shapes of people, some carrying torches or lanterns chasing another person. All were heading in our direction down the old dirt road. Somewhat frightened we dashed back to our camp, but by then the racket had ceased and those people never got to the pond.
Now Frogs Pond has been renamed and all the surrounding woods razed for yet another subdivision.
I wonder if Walker is still resides there.
Having no parking area, the only way we could get there was to be dropped off with our gear and supplies at the entrance of an old mostly overgrown dirt road which led through about a mile of thick tangled woods.
Strange occurrences began on our second trip there and continued up until our last. After getting dropped off there we began hoofing all our gear to the pond, but heard something strange along the way. Off to our side in the thick foliage we heard something moving along with us. A few seconds after we stopped to listen, it would halt as well only to continue on with us just short of the pond. We called whatever it was - ‘Walks Beside Us’ or just ‘Walker’. Walker never harmed us and we had come to accept it as a resident of these woods. We could never figure out how someone or something traversed through the thick tangled underbrush growing on both sides of that old dirt road.
Our last trip there three of us as usual were accompanied by Walker almost to the pond where we made camp, did some swimming, made a decent fire, had supper and proceeded to revel a bit, having brought in some booze. One of our party drank way too much, got sick and passed out leaving two of us left enjoying the early summer night and the sound of thousands of frogs chirping or trilling.
Just after we turned in for the night we heard a lot of noise coming from down the old dirt road. Exiting the tent we could hear people yelling. Braving the dark and overgrown dirt road we went part of the way back to the drop off point and saw the shapes of people, some carrying torches or lanterns chasing another person. All were heading in our direction down the old dirt road. Somewhat frightened we dashed back to our camp, but by then the racket had ceased and those people never got to the pond.
Now Frogs Pond has been renamed and all the surrounding woods razed for yet another subdivision.
I wonder if Walker is still resides there.