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Round River: Witches in the woods

Happy Fall! Like so many others, it's probably my favorite time of year. The cool temperatures, scenic foliage, bow hunting, river fishing, a smorgasbord of sports...the list of things I love about Fall goes on. Ironically, it's also the time of year when people experience equally strong feelings of adoration for trees, coupled with hatred of the leaves (or walnuts) that need raking.

Besides going for hikes in a local park or visiting the apple orchard, many families may also spend time sitting around a crackling campfire with a cup of hot chocolate this time of year. With the proximity to Halloween, this makes for a prime opportunity to break out a classic ghost story. For this article, I thought I'd share a few that tie in with some of Iowa's State Parks or other local outdoor places - so come with me on a virtual ghost hike as we search for specters among the hill & dale. Reader beware: scary stuff lies ahead!

Three Bridges Park (Marshalltown)

Let's start off locally. Between Marshalltown and Le Grand lies historic Three Bridges Park. Acquired in 1960, this 13-acres was Marshall County's first conservation acquisition. It contains the site of the county's oldest limestone quarry, an early grist mill, and an 1885 wagon bridge which is now on the National Historic Registry. But if you go for a visit, just keep several things in mind.

Many folks claim to have seen apparitions of a woman and her children haunting the local area. Supposedly, if you stop on or near the bridge around midnight*, the woman's ghost or face is said to appear and follow visitors down the road. (*Note that if you do go at midnight, you're in violation of the park's recreational hours of 5:30 AM-10:30 PM.)

What's more eerie is the tale of a young boy, often described as a 12-year old or 5th grader, who supposedly was killed in the forest area surrounding the quarry. The legend claims he was lost in the woods, and mistaken for a game animal. Visitors have reported hearing a child's voice calling out to them, or the sound of footsteps following them through the woods. Other hikers of the suspension bridge and old iron bridge at night describe feelings of being watched or hearing mysterious sounds echoing off the limestone walls.

Four-County Justice (Grand River, IA)

My Dad is a renowned teller of ghost stories. My brothers and our friends still laugh about some of his legendary yarns told around the campfires of our youth. One notable classic took place deep in the woods of southern Iowa at our family's timber property. The land lies a quarter-mile from the junction of Union, Clarke, Ringgold, and Decatur Counties.

He told us of hiking way back into the corner of the property one November day to hunt deer. During the hunt in which he sat in a tree stand, snow began to fall. After several hours of hunting with no luck, he got down from the stand and began to walk out. It was then that he cut the trail of a man's bootsteps in the freshly fallen snow not far from where his stand was. He surely would have seen the trespasser had he walked by, and yet there had been no one. As darkness fell and he navigated his way through the woods, he heard an eerie, cackling laughter coming from deep in the river valley to the northeast. The laughter continued to echo until he safely left the woods.

What he learned later, as he told us around the fire, was the chilling tale of the execution of a man named Silas Rude in the vicinity of where he'd heard the cackling come from:

Silas Rude was an early settler of northwest Decatur County in the 1850's. In November of 1856, Silas shot and killed his neighbor Ed McManigal, whose stock had wandered onto Rude's property during a cattle drive. Outraged and lacking a proper court system, a posse quickly formed and began to hunt Rude down. Silas fled the scene and holed up in the hayloft of a farmer's barn in nearby Union County. Upon finding him, the posse escorted Silas Rude to a corner post where the four counties touched, and tied him up. They loaded seven rifles and positioned themselves in a circle all around Rude. Aiming carefully so as not to shoot one another, on the signal they all fired upon Rude. Afterwards, no one could be quite certain exactly who and from which county the true executioner had been.

Demons of Deadman's Lake (Pilot Mound State Park, Forest City)

Pilot Knob State Park is located along Highway 9 in north-central Iowa and was dedicated in 1924. Besides the distinctive knob-and-kettle glacial topography, inside the park lies an ecologically-unique 4-acre floating bog - Deadman's Lake – the only true sphagnum peat bog in Iowa.

There are a few different competing stories which attempt to explain the name of the Lake. The most agreed-upon is the local legend of a lone Native American man who chose to live a solitary life by the lake rather than fleeing with his tribe when settlers arrived. According to the tale, he frequently ventured into a secret glacial cave on the property, for reasons mysterious and unknown. Upon his eventual death, his tribesmen allegedly returned to the area and buried him inside the cave, and permanently sealed the entrance.

A different tale tells the story of a man found dead along the shore of the lake a long time ago. No one in the vicinity knew his name or the cause of his death. Some say he comes back when the moon is full, in search of his lost wagon.

A third explanation suggests that a prairie traveler headed for distant lands guided his oxen out onto the partially frozen lake for a drink of water, only for the ice to give way, sending them all to their death.

Whatever the true origin for the name of Deadman's Lake, some visitors to the park today find the mysterious, acidic waters, the heavy moss, and pungent boggy air to give the lake an eerie atmosphere, inspiring local annual haunted hike events under the black prairie skies. Iowa's only species of carnivorous plant (Round-leaved Sundew) occurs here: attracting, catching and eating its insect prey....and, who knows what else it might be willing to consume if given the chance?

Ghosts of Gitchie Manitou

Located in extreme northwest Iowa, practically on the outskirts of Sioux Falls, SD, is Gitchie Manitou State Preserve. A graffiti-covered ruin of an old stone picnic shelter belies the true nature of the preserve: outcroppings of 1.6-billion-year-old, Pre-Cambrian Sioux quartzite. These pink rocks are the oldest exposed bedrock that can be found in Iowa. According to the DNR, the name is based on a Native American word meaning "Great Spirit" or "Great Force of Nature." The preserve includes seventeen conical burial mounds and several Woodland or Great Oasis habitation sites.

In November 1973, the park was the site of a horrific tragedy: a mass murder of four teenagers. Not surprisingly, the park has earned an infamous and dark reputation as one of the creepiest locations in the State of Iowa, and a site of heightened paranormal activity. Visitors to the remote area report an intense, unsettling heavy atmosphere, disembodied whispers echoing off the quartz, and sightings of misty or shadowy figures drifting among the trees near the old quarry site. Some report hearing bloodcurdling screams, faint voices, animal growls, or distant drumbeats. Hikers frequently report sudden cold spots, an oppressive feeling of being watched, or inexplicable quiet.

It's important to note that the lone survivor of the tragic 1973 murders has expressed her wish that the park not be desecrated with graffiti or exploited as a destination for thrill-seekers. "Honor the boys who died there and say a prayer for them, because they saved my life." For more on her story, check out the book "Gitchie Girl."

Specter of Pikes Peak State Park

This one comes straight from the source. Matt Tschirgi is a former Park Manager of Pikes Peak State Park along the scenic Mississippi bluffs near McGregor, Iowa. He reports that he and his spouse heard and saw many unusual things while living in the Park's 100-year old farmhouse. Once, for instance, they saw wet footprints on their otherwise dry deck. Matt says they were small, like a child's or small woman. They also occasionally saw figures appear in windows and hallways, and their dogs at times seemed to be watching something, or someone from within the room. A summer staffer who often house-sat for the park manager reported hearing footsteps and other creepy things in the house, to the point that she was afraid to stay in the house alone.

The back bedroom of the house was a particular hotspot of odd happenings. Once, they had a friend over to visit who was known locally as a bit of an eccentric personality - she even described herself as a clairvoyant. When she got to the front door, she stopped suddenly. "You have a girl living with you," she stated plainly. The park manager and his wife politely disagreed. "No one else lives here," they said. "Uh, yes, there is. You have a woman’s spirit living here, and she doesn’t like other females." They later found out from the family that used to live in the house that a woman died in the back bedroom many years earlier.

Last but not least, when the park manager and his wife were remodeling their kitchen, pulling lath and plaster off the wall with a crowbar, they found an old child’s doll. After removing the doll from the kitchen, they observed a noticeable increase in strange happenings. Afterward, they returned it to the kitchen and placed it on a shelf…mostly as a conversation piece, and also to laugh with each other.

The Crying Girl of Lover's Leap (Swinging Bridge Park, Columbus Junction)

If you've never been to the Swinging Bridge in Columbus Junction (known locally as "The Leap"), just imagine that scene from an Indiana Jones movie of crossing an insanely deep, wide gulch on a rickety old wooden bridge, with others trying to bounce you off. While it's not exactly that dramatic (hopefully no cannibalistic shaman is chasing you), the 100-foot tall and 262-foot span swinging bridge is scary enough for most. To cap it off, each step elicits a creaking groan from the wooden planks to enhance the pucker factor.

Local lore tells the tragic tale of a Native American woman who allegedly cast herself into the gorge after learning that her lover had been killed in battle. Hikers walking the swinging bridge or navigating the valley trails beneath after dusk frequently claim to hear a mournful, disembodied crying echoing through the ravine.

Here's to wishing all who wander a Happy Halloween and Día de los Muertos. I hope you get out and (safely) enjoy all that Fall has to offer!

Joe Herring has worked as a professional forester and natural resources manager in central Iowa for 20 years.