November 2012 – Obscure Vermont

November 28, 2012March 31, 2020

The Terrors of Duxbury Road

Duxbury Road – a strip cut through the mountainous topography of the Green Mountain spine. Starting as a paved road in tiny Jonesville, it quickly turns to dirt on the Bolton town line, and then becomes a desolate drive of potholed thoroughfare on its way to Duxbury, that rolls up and down steep hardwood shrouded ledges with exposed granite cliff walls that form the banks of the great Winooski River, which meanders its way in an east to west direction through the mountains here, around gravel bar islands and muddy banks. It’s a beautiful drive, especially in the summer when the road fills in with greenery and becomes shadowy, even on the brightest of days.

Perhaps it’s the dark forests and the stunning topography that gives the road it’s many disturbing legends. The tales I have been told are so obscure, that even many locals are unaware of them.

A friend of a friend, which is often how these tales go, was the first one to tell me that something was off about Duxbury Road. He finally agreed to sit down with me one night and talk about it. Duxbury Road has been rumored to be haunted for decades, but the source of activity here is almost impossible to uncover, and yet could fill a few chapters in an encyclopedia of urban legends.

According to my friend, who I’ll call “Adam” for story telling purposes, many houses along the road have experienced “something” bizarre, but residents don’t like talking about such things, and in classic Vermont stoicism, keep quiet about it. But occasionally, they’ll talk amongst themselves.

Family troubles

Though Adam couldn’t offer any incite on other people, he did have quite a few stories of his own. As a kid, Adam and his younger sister lived on an old farmhouse on Duxbury Road. For him, the weirdness started with one harrowing encounter on a summer night. His father was sitting in his armchair watching TV, when his five year old sister came out into the living room and stood next to him. His dad turned his head and smiled at her, and asked her what she wanted. “Oh nothing, I just wanted to tell you that Grandpa wanted you to know that he’s proud of you”.

He remembered that his father’s face fell, and was at a loss for words.Their grandfather had died long before she was born. Trying to compose himself, he asked her what she meant. She said that his father sometimes came to visit her at night, and when he leaves, he walks up the hill next to their house, but he has no feet. He wanted him to know that he was doing a great job raising his family, and that he would always be around when he needed him, which was something he always said before he passed away. He walked into another room and came back with an old photo album, and she was able to point out his father, despite never seeing a photo of the man before. Adam said that his father was very distressed for weeks after the incident.

Shortly after that unusual night, his little sister said she had an encounter with another family ghost, but this time she claimed to see the ghost of their dad’s dead brother, while playing hide and seek outside.

After that, the entire family began feeling uncomfortable while inside the house. Everyone recalled at one time or another, they felt like they were being watched.

Then one night, Adam recalled a terrifying incident that happened to him. He remembers waking up abruptly and becoming aware that something was in the room with him. Though he didn’t see anything, he felt its presence. Then, he felt a weight press down on the edge of the bed, and the corner of his mattress sunk down, as if someone was sitting on it. Then, he said he felt what was like an arm clasp around his leg. Too afraid to look, he screamed “leave me alone!”, and whatever it was, vanished.

More things continued to happen. His mom was sitting in the living room one night when everyone else was in bed, when she was startled to hear a noise coming from outside, what she had described as someone dragging a stick across the tin siding of their house, and stopped right underneath the window she was sitting near. She flicked on the floodlights and went to investigate, but no one was outside.

As Adam and his sister grew older, the strange disturbances seemed to fade away. But Adam had a theory. He told me that whatever was behind the supernatural phenomenon at their house was probably playful by nature, and saw him and his sister as playmates, and when they grew up, it no longer had a companion.

More Strange Happenings

Months later, I was having lunch with a friend, and our conversation soon morphed into Vermont weirdness, as we would try to outdo one another with an account that we were sure the other one had never heard of. That brought me to bring up Duxbury, and my friend became animated. “Duxbury you say? That’s strange, I had a friend who grew up in Duxbury, and he told me about a haunted road he knew about as a kid. It might be the same road” His friend grew up in Duxbury in the 50s, and recalls that at the time, the Duxbury Road had a reputation for being haunted. One of the more well known haunts was the ghost of a little girl who was hit and killed by a train after falling out of the back of a moving wagon. Apparently, there was a farmhouse down the road from her fatal accident with a shrine dedicated to the dead girl in the living room.

Another story tells of an old curmudgeonly German hermit who lived on Robbins Mountain with a pack of dogs. Very little is known about him, but one variation of the story was that the hermit was said to be a lunatic, and people knew best to avoid him. The man eventually died and the dogs went wild and dangerous. They continued to roam the slopes of Robbins Mountain, occasionally venturing near a farm or a house and killing livestock and scaring children. The story was continued to be told afterwards, but by then the dogs were ghost dogs, and has now seemed to mysteriously have been forgotten, just as the hermit who inspired the legend.

According to other legends, an unruly band of squatters once inhabited the area, and at one time long ago, the woods were home to a vicious pack of Catamounts. But these were all predictably untraceable things to uncover further.

Shadow Figures

Towards the Jonesville section of Duxbury Road, there is an old schoolhouse that was renovated into a private residence. According to some people, there is something strange about the place.

My friend Adam recalls another bizarre story that was told to him from someone with a firsthand experience. Across from the schoolhouse sat another old house that a man he once knew lived in. One night, the man awoke from his slumber and couldn’t get back to sleep. For whatever reason, he had a yen to look out the window near his bed, which faced the schoolhouse across the road. He pulled back the curtains and peered out into the night. It was almost like something was directing the man where to look, as his gaze was pulled up to the tower on top of the schoolhouse. Inside that tower, he faintly saw the silhouette of a man, and it was looking at him.

Unnerved by this, he pulled back the drapes and blamed the strange visual on being sleep deprived. He rolled back in bed and tried to forget about it, but for some reason, he couldn’t shake the weird image of the figure in the tower. Curiosity got the better of him, and he looked out the window again. This time, he noticed the tower was empty, but soon spotted the familiar dark outline of the man, this time staring at him from a window downstairs.

Wide awake, he tried to find some logic in the bizarre situation. He looked back out the window once again to see if the mysterious figure would still be there. This time, the man was standing in the middle of the road. Terrified now, he turned on all the lights in the house and waited until morning. Nothing further happened, and he never saw the figure again, but he never forgot about that night.

What exactly is going on here? What could be behind so many strange experiences on Duxbury Road? Do strange things still happen today, and are dark tales still told?

Most of the activity on Duxbury Road could very well be attached to the very land the road exists on, acting as some sort of paranormal conduit. It is said that the area is the site of an unrecognized Indian burial ground, with artifacts and human remains being unearthed over the past few centuries as the area became developed and farmed. But my attempt to inquire further about such claims were met with dead ends, putting me right back to where I started.

Could there be some sort of supernatural or awesome property in the hills of Duxbury that the Native Americans recognized? Or perhaps, these strange occurrences are nothing more than the product of yarn spinning and generations of story tellers. I suppose only the Green Mountains know for sure, and they can sure keep a secret.

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To all of my amazing fans and supporters, I am truly grateful and humbled by all of the support and donations through out the years that have kept Obscure Vermont up and running.

As you all know I spend countless hours researching, writing, and traveling to produce and sustain this blog. Obscure Vermont is funded entirely on generous donations that you the wonderful viewers and supporters have made. Expenses range from internet fees to host the blog, to investing in research materials, to traveling expenses. Also, donations help keep me current with my photography gear, computer, and computer software so that I can deliver the best quality possible.

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November 25, 2012March 31, 2020

The World’s Largest Tower of Filing Cabinets

I think this is one of the first Vermont oddities most Chittenden County denizens are introduced to, because of its easy to find location in a slowly gentrifying neighborhood. I lived in Burlington’s cool south end district for a few years before I moved onto other apartments, which I’m now regretting.

Sometimes the best adventures are in your own backyard. Or at least they can keep the doldrums away. One of my favorite ways to spend my days in Burlington was to go scouting. For what? That totally depended on wherever I walked with my camera. Thankfully, Burlington is a very cool and eclectic city.

Down on Flynn Avenue, you can’t avoid spotting the world’s largest tower of filing cabinets in a weedy field near Switchback Brewery. But…why?

These seemingly random filing cabinets were actually very much intentional. The strange tower was built in 2002 by local artist Bren Alvarez as an art project, and a silent jab at bureaucracy. It stands in the path of the ill-fated “Southern Connector“, an interstate highway that was never built – the blighted urban planning failure actually sits a block south, and was put on indefinite hiatus because of a swampy, polluted barge canal just a bit north. There are 38 drawers, each represents the number of years of paperwork accumulated by the project when the thing was fabricated.

But that’s not all this peculiar monument tells you. All over its rusting structure are urban hieroglyphics – hinting at local taggers and mysterious visitors who pass by and leave their marks in their own way. Names, pseudonyms and a rather cool map of Burlington are just a few of the things you can find etched onto the sides. Local lore has it that at the very top drawer, that lies slightly open, lies a hidden geocache – or at least some sort of mysterious object stashed up there, waiting for someone to see. But I couldn’t confirm is that was true or not. There definitely isn’t an official geocache listed on the website here.

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To all of my fans and supporters, I am truly grateful and humbled by all of the support and donations throughout the years that have kept Obscure Vermont up and running.

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November 13, 2012March 31, 2020

Nostalgic Route 9: Abandoned Motels, Vintage Signs

Recently, I had my inaugural voyage to the Adirondacks of Upstate New York, an area I’ve became quite interested in. Lake Champlain, the massive body of freshwater roughly 500 square miles in size, forms the boundary between Vermont and New York, and with a limited amount of crossings to the next state, as well as a lack of reasons for your blogger to go visit, the state of New York was practically an unfamiliar exotic world to me, an undisputed disparity from the weird bubble that is Vermont. One of the most common things I hear flatlanders say about Vermont, is something like; “man, do you have any idea how weird Vermont is? Seriously, you guys are like a cult up here. It’s almost like you don’t belong in the rest of the United States”, and sometimes they eye me with momentary awe. And I’m immensely proud of that.

The Vermont side of the lake is gentler and up kept, while the New York side is wild and grungy, wallowing in its nostalgia. Boulders and forests slide into the lake, bordered by rural stretches of crumbling highways and tumbledown homes. The Adirondack experience is a multi-faceted one – a region that doesn’t give up all its secrets, but doesn’t hide its scars. A place that’s vast, desolate and intriguing.

Meeting up with a good friend who is familiar with the region, he agreed to show me around some of his favorite haunts on a rather pleasant November day. Crisscrossing the region’s roads in the most inefficient manor possible, we decided to dedicate our escapade to a particular hue; the scores of old motels, vacation cabins and awesomely unkempt vintage signage and their visage of deterioration.

Everything related to this goal can be found along U.S. Route 9, where much of the area’s notoriety once came from. The route cuts through this huge region in a north south direction between the Adirondack Mountains and Lake Champlain. At one point, Route 9 was the original superhighway to the North Country before the Adirondack Northway, also known as Interstate 87, was built. In Route 9’s well traveled heyday, it was crawling with people tromping through its roadside attractions, curio, and motels which made lasting impressions in some tangible way. Today, a journey down Route 9 is more of a reflection of one of the more grimy truths of reality; impermanence. It’s now a desolate and forlorn drive through almost uninterrupted miles of forest, which is often sick and scraggily looking, as the Adirondack Northway carries most traffic now. But it’s a fascinating drive to me.

The landscape changes dramatically from the unanimated city of Plattsburgh and neighboring town of Keeseville as Route 9 heads south towards the tiny town of North Hudson and the ruins of Frontier Town, a frontier themed amusement park that was once the blood and pride of an otherwise easily missed town. The areas around Plattsburgh and Keeseville are lined by mid century motel establishments and their gimmicky retro signs complete with wondering arrows, neon lights and sharp angles; all designed to capture the travelers’ attention. Further south, unvarying one room wooden cabins are scattered in the midst of otherwise scraggly fir forests and increasingly long distances of highway with no signs of life for miles. Depressed hamlets like Lewis and New Russia spring out of the untamed forest like some sort of northern mirage, but are easily forgotten within minutes.

We decided the best route to New York would be The Grand Isle Ferry. From there, it would be a short drive down Route 314 to the destination Route 9 in Plattsburgh. The winds were incredibly fierce, the lake was choppy and full of whitecaps. Because of this, the ferry ride over was twice as long, as the captain attempted to navigate the rough waters safely, the boat viciously rocking back and forth and the waves spraying over onto the deck. For the fun of it, we got out of the car and attempted to get a few pictures of the rough conditions, but my, uh, sea legs had 25 years of inexperience working against me. The boat was rocking so badly that it was almost impossible to gain my balance. Admitting defeat, it was back in the car for me.

The choppy waters of Lake Champlain from the Grand Isle ferry.

While taking pictures of this sign, the owner of the motel happened to be walking by, giving us a strange look. To relieve some of the tension, we told her we liked her sign, and asked how old it was. She scratched her head in thought, and said it's been here since the mid 50s. — While taking pictures of this sign, the owner of the motel happened to be walking by, giving us a strange look. To relieve some of the tension, we told her we liked her sign, and asked how old it was. She scratched her head in thought, and said it’s been here since the mid 50s. “I can’t believe you guys want to take a picture of it” she said laughing.

Out of the city limits now, Route 9 returns to stark wilderness. With the motels of Keeseville now gone, the desolation is now occasionally broken by crumbling roadside cabins shrouded in growth, with a decaying sign out front, their paint long faded and neon tubes hanging loosely around the sides.

Cabin Set #1

Cabin Set #2

These cabins were practically in someone's front yard. — These cabins were practically in someone’s front yard.

Cabin Set #3

I found these to be interesting because of their unique hillside perch – and their remote location – there was nothing else around for several miles, making me think that these were sort of a “last chance” affair.

Now the landscape changed again from the cramped rustic abandoned cabins to abandoned motels.

Abandoned Motel #1

This abandoned motel seemed to be relativity up kept, its dated architecture looking almost as crisp as its heyday. The lawn was kept mowed, and the owners lived across the street in another former motel, which I suppose wasn’t very surprising.

Abandoned Motel #2

This motel was more desolate then the first one, done in a kitschy in a rustic log theme, which was inspired by the defunct amusement park, Frontier Town, which was just down the road. The crumbling parking lot had almost returned to a wild state overran with weeds, and the long front porch was becoming encroached with fir trees growing slowly inside it. This was the first place we noticed that hosted transient people. Some of the rooms had been broken into, and the obvious signs of human presence were everywhere, but thankfully none were around when we arrived.

An abandoned playground weighed down by the desolation of the forest.

Frontier Town

Down the road is the uninteresting town of North Hudson, nothing more then a collection of ramshackle homes and trailers amidst the scraggly woods. But years ago, North Hudson was home to one of the most beloved tourist destinations in the Adirondacks; Frontier Town.

In 1951, an enterprising man named Art Benson chose the woods of North Hudson to be the home for his new vision; a theme park that would bring the wild west to upstate New York. He had no income, no background in construction or anything related to running a theme park, and yet, with ambition and bearing his charismatic personality, he managed to pull off one of the most beloved tourist traps in the Adirondacks. Decorated like a primitive frontier town of the 19th century and amusing it’s guests with interactive dioramas from folklore, popular culture and history, the park continued it’s role as a compelling spectacle until 1983, when Benson sold the park to another development firm, who closed the park in 1989, and reopened it shortly after with new attractions to try and lure more people to make up for the park’s dwindling audience. By 1998, Frontier Town closed for good, after being discombobulated by dropping finances and the latest victim of changing trends; the new notion that it was now dated and politically incorrect.

The vast property was seized in August 2004 by Essex County for past-due property taxes. Today, the park is a humble collection of ruins rotting in the woods, or along Route 9, which is where the main entrance was. The property is skirted by a collection of abandoned motels and restaurants that now look rather out of place in town.

There have been a few special interest groups organized with the goal to restore Frontier Town, and have it labeled as a historic landmark. But so far, none have been successful. Nearby the property is the seedy Gokey’s Trading Post, which has a few pieces of Frontier Town memorabilia for those looking for some nostalgia.

To read more about Frontier Town, you can click this link to be taken to my blog entry on that.

Abandoned Motel at the entrance to Frontier Town

this motel also came with a simple playground for the kids, which admittedly looked more disappointing than fun

From the motel parking lot, one of the remaining buildings of Frontier Town could be seen - a former restaurant and gift shop against the late Adirondack sun. — From the motel parking lot, one of the remaining buildings of Frontier Town could be seen – a former restaurant and gift shop against the late Adirondack sun.

DSC_0046_pe — Driving through abandoned roads still adorned with battered street lamps and the ruins of the remaining buildings is an eerie experience. Years ago, this area used to be packed with tourists, noises and life – today the only sounds are the mountain winds and the hum of traffic from Route 9.

Side Note: There is a ghost town in the mountains behind Frontier Town. If you’re curious, click on here to read about it.

DSC_0052_pe — In addition to the numerous motels, cabins and restaurants that are abandoned here – we found out that the interstate exit that once served Frontier Town was also abandoned as well. This abandoned Citgo station sat a few yards away from the exit ramps. Here, a poor traveler pulled into the parking lot and was panicking. “Hey guys, do you know where a gas station is?” We told him there was on in Schroon Lake, 10 miles down the road. His face dropped. “shit. I don’t think I can make it” he sighed. We watched him pull out and turn onto Route 9. I hope he made it before it was too late.

Frontier Town is such a large property that I would need to devote an entire day to see it, which I hope to plan.

“Dysfunction Junction”

Heading back up Route 9, we drove through a unique, bizarre intersection at Routes 9 and 73 in New Russia, a hamlet of Elizabethtown. When Route 73 hits Route 9, the lanes split off in separate directions, crossing each other in a crazed and seemingly random pattern before coming together again. Everytime I’ve driven through it, I’ve wondered: why does this intersection exist? And the first few times – Where do I go?

A chance find on a Google search provided me with some answers. The locals call this “Dysfunction Junction”. The intersection was built in 1958, using a design that has been instituted (with slightly variations) in other areas of the state. The design is a “bulb type-T intersection” that “favors the heavier right-turn movement from the upper to the lower left leg of the intersection. Sight distances are excellent and approach speeds are approximately 40 miles per hour.”

So why was this design chosen for this spot? We have to go back to Route 9’s heyday as the main artery from Plattsburgh and points South. Before the Northway was built, Route 9 suffered far worse traffic congestion as it does now. Before the construction, a simple stop sign was in place, which overtime was unable to handle the flow of moving traffic. The design allows Route 9 traffic to flow through without stopping, while anyone continuing on 73 would have to wait. Today, they’d probably build a roundabout instead. While this design may have made sense in the 1950s, today’s traffic patterns have changed. But not everything thinks it’s a bad design. “If you just follow the signs, you’ll be alright” says one indifferent local.

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To all of my amazing fans and supporters, I am truly grateful and humbled by all of the support and donations through out the years that have kept Obscure Vermont up and running.

Gofundme: https://www.gofundme.com/b5jp97d4