I thought hiking alone was terrifying, but now I think hiking with another person was worse. If they even were a person.
For context, make sure you go check out my other post here (I’ll also put the full link at the end of this post).
Assuming you’ve read that post, you know how terrifying my solo hike a few days ago was. You’ll also know that despite that experience, I was planning to go ahead with another solo hike this last Friday. I got a lot of advice, but the main thing everyone seemed to agree on was that I should be careful, and that if the trail was as deserted as last time, I shouldn’t go. And I agreed with all of you. I figured I’d be very careful to listen to any gut feelings I had. If anything felt even a little bit off, I’d get out immediately.
I did all the same careful preparation as the first time, and even a little more: I packed up food and water, told multiple people where I was hiking, and made sure to have a paper and digital copy of the map. I also packed a small knife, a compass, a flashlight, a panic whistle, and a battery pack so I could recharge my phone if it died again. I did some research and made sure that there were no dangerous predators in the area, and even did a brief search to double check that there were no major reports of cryptids or paranormal experiences in the area. I felt I was ready for anything and that even if I had a repeat experience, I’d be prepared.
But my hike from a couple days ago was almost the polar opposite of my first one. Instead of a gray, rainy day, the weather was beautiful and sunny. When I got to Starved Rock State Park, rather than a quiet, deserted forest I found a busy, popular tourist destination. The parking lot for the visitor center (which doubled as my trailhead) was packed with cars, and I saw over a dozen people start or finish their hikes just in the time it took me to park my car and gather up my stuff. Instead of overgrown with dense foliage, the trails were wide and allowed visibility for hundreds of feet in any direction. Instead of a lonely 12 mile loop, I was only hiking 4.5 miles and I only ever went a couple minutes at a time without seeing someone heading in one direction or another.
Everything seemed perfect. It wasn’t until the hike was over that I realized how wrong I was.
Within the first 15 minutes, I had relaxed almost completely. I found myself nearly laughing out loud with the relief of knowing this hike would be better. The birds were singing, the mosquitos were buzzing, and the views were fantastic. The hike I did took me past several canyons (which is incredible for Illinois) and it seemed every other bend of the trail led to some awesome photo op.
It was at the first of these awesome views that I met the woman. As I rounded the corner of the trail to find myself at the entrance to French Canyon, she was just standing there, staring across the dried up stream bed towards the canyon wall. At the time, I didn’t think too much of it. It was a pretty cool view, and I considered stopping myself to take a picture or two. But as I began to step towards her she instantly turned towards me and smiled. “Oh, am I in your way? Feel free to pass me, I’ll stay out of your way.”
She was an older woman, I’d have guessed maybe in her 60s, although she was clearly very healthy and athletic. She was wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots, and had long gray hair tied back in a ponytail. I didn’t look too closely at the shirt, but I thought I saw it was for some event in Chicago, which made sense enough. Her smile was friendly, and her greeting felt just like any number of brief exchanges I’ve had with fellow hikers in the past.
“Oh, no worries,” I replied. After all, the trail was plenty wide for me to pass her without issue. “It really is a great view. Maybe I’ll stop and take a picture too,” I laughed, pulling out my phone.
“Oh, it really is!” she agreed. “Have you been here before? I’ve been here more times than I can count! You should really come back in the winter. It’s so beautiful then, very quiet and peaceful. Too many people here this time of year.”
I smiled politely back, and told her that no, this was my first time. I thanked her for the advice, and continued down the path into the mouth of the canyon. It quickly led to a dead end, and I realized that the main trail must go up and around the side of the canyon, but I didn’t mind the little detour. Having the huge rock walls towering above me on all sides made for an awesome spot to stop for a quick drink of water. I stood, enjoying the silence for a moment before turning around to double back and found the same woman standing right there.
“It’s a shame the waterfall is dried up. You should really make sure you go to La Salle Canyon. That waterfall is almost definitely still flowing,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had sneaked up behind me. I had already been planning to go to La Salle. In fact, it was the main destination of my hike, and I told her so. She, in response, pulled out a map of the park that I recognized from the visitor center and started giving me directions.
At this point, I’d decided that this was just a nice, friendly old lady who really loved nature and struggled a bit with picking up on the social cues of someone who’d prefer to be left alone. But I didn’t want to be rude, so I let her walk me through the hike I’d already planned on doing before thanking her and turning to go. As I began to walk out of the canyon, she called after me. “If you have time, you should really go to the St. Louis canyon too! It’s fantastic!” I knew I didn’t have the time, but I nodded and said I’d see if I could fit it in.
After I left the woman at the bottom of the dead waterfall, the next mile or so passed uneventfully. I took the shortest path towards La Salle canyon and passed about nine overlooks, three or four trail intersections, and at least fifty other hikers. Eventually I got to the last trail intersection before the La Salle canyon, and the same woman from before was standing there again.
I was more than a little confused. How did she pass me? I was moving pretty quick, and I knew I took the shortest path from French Canyon to where I was now. She definitely didn’t pass me along the way either. I eventually decided she must have taken one of the longer paths and managed to just barely beat me to the intersection because I had stopped to take pictures at a few of the viewpoints.
She greeted me warmly, like an old friend “Oh, it’s you! I was just trying to get a picture of this dragonfly, but it flew away.” I didn’t see a dragonfly or a camera, but I assumed she must have just put her phone in her pocket. “Ready for La Salle?”
I was a little disappointed to realize that she intended to hike the last stretch with me. She certainly seemed nice enough, and it’s not like I was worried she’d attack me or anything. She was just a little more talkative than I might’ve liked. But I nodded and together we crossed the stone bridge that led to the canyon trail.
Initially, I tried picking up the pace enough to just naturally leave her behind, but she kept up without an issue. She kept up a steady stream of conversation. “Are you from around here? Where are you from? What do you do for work?” On and on she went with the kind of surface level questions you ask when you’re first getting to know somebody. I’d answer the questions and trying to be nice I’d occasionally ask her about herself.
“Oh, I live right around here. I actually came here for the first time 60-some years ago. Oops, showing my age a little,” she chuckled. “My work keeps me pretty active, so I’m lucky to still be able to spend time in the woods. Lately I’ve been trying out other forests though.”
As I listened to her voice behind me, I rounded one last corner and found myself staring at what would have been the waterfall in La Salle canyon, but, like the other would-be falls in the park, this one was dried up. The trail ended here, and I walked right up to where a few droplets of water still fell from where the falls used to be. I realized the woman was still talking behind me.
“Have you ever been to the Red Cedar Trail?”
I froze. It had to be a coincidence, right? I mean, the internet did say it was a popular trail, although my trip didn’t really seem to support that theory. Still, surely she couldn’t have known that I had just hiked the Red Cedar Trail a few days ago, and she certainly couldn’t have known how bad of an experience it was.
I came up with all of these explanations for myself in less than a second, but my danger sense had gone from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye. I slowly turned to see the old woman smiling at me, and for the first time, her smile didn’t seem warm and friendly. It seemed… Cruel.
We stared at each other for what felt like minutes but could only have been a few seconds before I heard the snapping of a branch from back the way we’d came. The woman’s head snapped back around and we both saw the group of three middle-aged guys walk in, chatting about some sports game. I might have imagined it, but I swear the old woman growled before smiling and saying “I’ll get out of your way in case you want to take pictures. It really is a pain when there’s too many people in this canyon.” And she walked away.
I just kind of stood there for a while, waiting to calm down. When the trio of hikers were done taking their pictures and turned to go, I made sure to follow pretty close behind. I stayed near their group all the way back to the parking lot, close enough that they’d definitely hear if I called out. The 2 mile walk gave me plenty of time to think about what had actually happened in the last hour or so, and I realized a few things that made me worried.
First, with the exception of the moment when the three guys walked into the canyon, every moment I’d spent with the woman we’d been completely alone. With the sheer amount of people I’d seen on the trail, it felt like there was no way that could have been a coincidence.
Second, I realized just how much this woman had seemed to want me to go to the most remote point in this set of trails. She had recommended it repeatedly, given me directions to it, and even walked the final stretch with me.
And finally, I realized just how much I’d told this strange woman about myself. I’d told her my name and how old I was. I’d told her what state and even what city I was from. I told her what I did for work. And meanwhile, I hadn’t even gotten her name, let alone any solid details about who she was. Everything she’d said about herself was vague at best. All I knew for sure was that she liked being in the woods.
Luckily, the return trip was pretty uneventful. As I walked across the parking lot to my car, I tried to shake off the bad feelings and told myself I should focus on the first half of the hike. I’d had a good time and gotten lots of great pictures to share with family and friends when I got home. Then I saw the sheet of paper folded up and tucked under one of my windshield wipers.
I pulled it out hoping it wasn’t some kind of parking ticket, but it was a map from the visitor center. Someone had circled La Salle Canyon and drawn a couple of arrows in what looked like black Sharpie? And on the other side was a short note. It read:
THANKS FOR THE FUN
SEE YOU SOON
--
I’ve been home for about a day now, and I’m trying not to worry too much. I mean, I live in a pretty big city and it’s not like I gave that woman my address or anything.
I’m hoping that this is all nothing. Maybe this lady really was just a nice old woman trying to make a friend, and I was overreacting. Maybe the note on my car was meant for someone else. It’s not like there were disembodied children’s voices and phantom footsteps like my last hike. Everything could have a personally reasonable explanation.
I’ll definitely keep triple checking the locks on my doors and windows though.
Edit: So I know I just posted this a little bit ago, but on a hunch I did some research on the St. Louis Canyon that the old lady recommended. It turns out that back in 1960 three women were found dead in the canyon. A guy was arrested and found guilty, but he’s spent his entire life claiming that he was framed and that he’s innocent. I don’t want to make light of these deaths or anything, but with everything that’s been happening to me, I really don’t like the fact that this creepy old woman tried to send me to the location of a relatively infamous triple homicide.