A hiss from the bowels of the earth

October in New Hampshire

I’m not sure how many of you grew up reading Frog and Toad (by the great Arnold Lobel), but of all their edifying adventures, the one that really left an impression upon me as a kid was “Dragons and Giants.” Frog and Toad have been reading some books about characters doing brave and dangerous things, so the two friends decide to get in on the action themselves. They climb a vertigo-inducing mountain, they narrowly avoid being snatched by a cave-dwelling snake, and they dodge the talons of a hawk. With every step of their misguided journey, Frog and Toad convince themselves to keep going by saying “I’m not afraid.” But the hawk proves to be the last straw. The bird of prey sends the amphibian chums sprinting back home, very much afraid.

What I love about this story is how it shows us that courage and fear are not mutually exclusive. The final page finds Frog and Toad huddling in the closet together, rattled from their venture but still feeling brave for having taken it. Hell, I’ve felt this way after several hikes. When I climbed the ladders along the Jordan Cliff Trail at Acadia, I was shaking afterward but in a smug, self-satisfied way. That same year, I experienced the same tornado of feelings when, after some internal convincing, I finally managed to locate one of the creepiest places in the New Hampshire woods—The Devil’s Den.

We’ve talked about New Hampshire’s strange abundance of hikes with names that allude to the devil, hell, and purgatory. But the Devil’s Den is in a class of its own, when it comes to goosebumps. Located in the woods around Merrymeeting Lake, not too far north of Portsmouth, the “den” is a cave on the haunches of a mountain whose stony summit looks like the kind of altar on which humans were sacrificed centuries ago. And even as far back as the colonial era, this cave has a dark history. In an article for the Laconia Daily Sun, the writer Gordon DuBois alludes to tales of witches being imprisoned in the cave by settlers who lived in nearby villages. I suspect this is true. Fleeing religious persecution, the Puritans couldn’t help but project their paranoia onto each other. But they also projected these troubling thoughts onto the unfamiliar woodlands and waters of New England. And as the decades went by, skin-crawling legends about the mountain cave near Merrymeeting Lake started to materialize.

The common denominator for these legends involves a presence within the bowels of the earth: an unseen devilish entity that would paint shadows on the cave walls and emit a hissing sound. One particularly elaborate version of the Devil’s Den legend even involves a spelunker venturing into a black abyss on a guide rope, only to be dragged into the darkness, screaming. When his friends manage to retract the rope, their friend is gone and the rope drenched with blood. While I’m sure there’s some embellishment at work here, the raw elements of the story are rooted in reality, when we think about what can happen to hikers in caves. You could be plunge by an abyss while heading deeper into the darkness. And there might be something nasty waiting in the dark.

So you can imagine that when I first learned about the Devil’s Den in 2018, the story made me grab my boots and poles, with the intention of testing the limits of my bravery. After all, the stories about the cave were spun by folks who had ventured there and lived to tell the tale. I wanted to join that illustrious legion. That resolve endured as I branched off from Route 16 North and entered a region of the Granite State that was totally new to me. Merrymeeting Lake is close to Winnipesaukee, but it feels far removed from the crowds and commerce of the superlative New Hampshire lake. The woods are denser and more scraggly. The houses are more weathered. And I didn’t get the impression that the lake receives many day visitors. As I drove along the water toward the trailhead for Devil’s Den, I felt like I was being monitored from the quiet lake houses. This might have been as much of a projection as the superstitions that afflicted the Puritans, but still, it was an eerie note on which to kick off the hike.

Adding to that “should I be here?” vibe, the trailhead for Devil’s Den has no sign to affirm where you’re going. There’s just a metal gate on the side of Merrymeeting Road, along the shady northwest shores of the lake. For the first 20 minutes or so, I walked along an old chewed-up road uphill, into a lonely forest that was speckled with birch trees and glacial erratics. Like a lot of trails in New Hampshire that aren’t part of a state or national forest, the trail to Devil’s Den is commonly used by ATV riders. It’s a curious sensation, hiking on a trail that wasn’t really established for you, as a hiker. Knowing this made me feel slightly on edge as the trail arrived at a height of land with a partial view of the desolate mountain dead ahead.

I’m not afraid…yet, I told myself as the trail descended into a col with a little pond and some buzzing wetlands. Upon reaching the grassy banks of the water, the faint whine of an engine started to bleed into my ear canals. It was getting louder fast. I turned around and saw two ATVs following me down the path. I instinctively moved myself to the side of the trail as they caught up with me. The riders gave an acknowledging nod as they crunched past me on the rocky trail and continued ahead up the mountain where the Devil’s Den was located. As I watched them go, I realized that I was slightly envious of them. Somehow, given the territory I was heading into, having the aid of an engine and wheels seemed desirable: to facilitate a quick getaway, if needed.

After climbing uphill from the pond, onto the dome of the little mountain, you’ll find a spur path on the left that offers direct access to the altar-like summit. But one thing that I discovered while doing my pre-trip research for Devil’s Den is that the cave is actually located beyond this summit path. You have to stick to the primary trail and follow it down the eastern haunch of the mountain. And before long, on the left side of the trail, you’ll see piles of boulders amid the wispy trees. The entrance to this den, on the side of the mountain, is hidden within this mess of rocks. A blood red arrow that’s been spray-painted on one of these rocks marks the spot where you have to scramble up a few boulders to a shelf-like ledge where the narrow entrance to Devil’s Den is located. The only way to find this arrow is to enter the stones and poke around.

I located the arrow faster than expected, schlepping my way up the rocks, onto the ledge. And as soon as I got there, I was staring into the blackest hole in the earth that I had ever seen. It was gratifying to find that this cave existed, and that I had done enough homework to locate it. But this elation melted away when I realized that only one thing remained: squeezing into the slit-like entrance and entering the Devil’s Den.

I had read about what people had seen in the cave. There’s a chamber where prior visitors have noted illegible scrawlings on the walls—possibly scrawled with blood. There’s also a ladder missing several rungs that leads out of the cave, to another, tougher-to-find entrance located near the mountaintop. I had no intention of climbing the ladder but the chamber intrigued me, as a place to savor and contemplate. And apparently, it’s located relatively close to the cave entrance, which was welcome news given that I was alone, and you don’t really want to step into caves when you’re alone.

Then I saw the hinges.

They were affixed to the granite by the cave entrance: ancient oxidized iron hinges, installed many ages ago. Given their position, I had to assume that these hinges once held a gate or a door of some kind. Was this the work of the colonists who wanted to imprison witches in the depths of the mountain? Or were these hinges placed here by someone else? A person who wanted to keep something contained within the cave? And what did it say that only the hinges remained here? What happened to the gate?

Was the answer hidden in the cave? Or in the woods around me?

I didn’t stick around to find out. As soon as I allowed these questions to worm their way into my skull, a louder instinct took over: an instinct to peace! It was the same alarm bell that I felt last October, when exploring Southwest Vermont’s mysterious Bennington Triangle, where man-eating rocks are rumored to reside. So I listened to that instinct and I fled. I slid down the mossy rocks, bruising my butt and scratching my legs on branches. I wheezed my way up and over the mountain dome again, not even bothering to visit the summit, and I kept wheezing until I was past the pond, in the forest again, looking for the familiar sight of that metal gate by the lake shore. Even as I slowed my jog to a brisk walk, I kept looking over my shoulder and eyeing the trees around me. And when I finally saw the tint of my car, I threw my backpack into the passenger seat and left a signatory patch of rubber on Merrymeeting Road.

Would things have gone differently had I brought a friend, in my search for Devil’s Den? Probably. Companionship and mustered courage go hand-in-hand. But it’s also possible that two or three of us would have succumbed to our willies. You never know how you’ll act in the face of real or perceived danger until you’re at that doorstep. And if those of you who appreciate the more ghoulish elements of October are craving a new challenge, in an outdoor venue, then consider a pilgrimage to Devil’s Den to test the boundaries of your bravery and to revel in terror, whenever it clicks on. Perhaps you’ll actually make it inside the cave, unlike me. Or maybe the act of searching for the cave in those creaking woods will be unsettling to initiate a sudden retreat.

Wherever your foray leads you, remember one thing. It takes a measure of courage to simply enter any woods with the intent of finding a haunted cave. And you can proudly share that act of courage at a cocktail bar, a networking event, or a college reunion.

People will stare, and you should welcome their discomfort.

Devil’s Den (summit included!)
Hike distance: 4.1 miles out-and-back
Elevation gain: 797 feet
CLICK HERE for a trail map

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While we're on the subject of nasty things that lurk in the woods, the CDC recently made an interesting discovery about how and why the dreaded norovirus body-slams so many thru-hikers on long trails. As reported for NPR by Pien Huang, scientists visited a rustic cabin on the PCT where thousands of hikers will stop to use the pit latrine or bunk down for the night each year. Water samples taken from a nearby creek that hikers use for refilling their bottles came back more or less clean. But every surface swabbed inside the cabin tested positive for fecal contamination. This is how the norovirus is transmitted, and what many people don't realize is that the virus can actually evade the ingredients in hand sanitizer that kill other pathogens. So if you're hiking a long trail during the summer and you find yourself handling doorknobs or surfaces at a thru-hiker hub, don't just rely on a squirt of Purell to clean your hands. Give them a good long scrub with a biodegradable soap like Dr. Bronner's in a water source. (You can carry a tiny bottle of this in your pack. It’s a solvent of many uses.)

Also, as you likely guessed, I chose to feature the Devil's Den in this week's newsletter because we're a few weeks out from Halloween, and New England is especially rich when it comes to troubling woodland-based folklore. As usual, I'm looking to expand my knowledge of backcounty-based horror books and movies while we're in the peak season for such escapism. So if you have any recommendations, please send them to me! I will sign out with a brief endorsement for Chris Sun's Boar, which is about a happy family visiting Australia, only to find themselves stalked and terrorized by A GIANT BOAR. You read that right. And just to sweeten the deal, their best hope is a rifle-wielding farmer named Bernie, played by Nathan Jones, whom some of you might remember as the gargantuan bad guy Rictus Erectus in Mad Max: Fury Road. 

Have fun.