Backpacking Mammoth Cave NP: Echo's From Times Past - Something Strange Happened While Camping Next to an Old Cemetery

 It was a faint sound at first almost drowned out by the wind that swirled through the tops of the massive ancient trees. I did hear it, a distant, indistinct laughing that seemed to emanate from all around not coming from any particular direction. At random, it would echo across and through the woodland blending with the wind. It was the faint and distant sound of a child playing and laughing, yet there was nothing visible to see. Did it have any connection to the old Miles-Davis cemetery?

My adventure began as an idea to make another photography/videography trip into the backcountry of Mammoth Cave National Park. This time around, I was going to stay for three days and two nights with the intent of spending the entire three days at my favorite location known as "The Bluffs". 

As it turned out when I arrived at the park headquarters to get my backcountry permit, The Bluffs area was already booked for the first night I was going to stay there. Instead I opted to reserve one night at Sal Hollow, and spend the second night at the Bluffs. To get to Sal Hollow required taking a short alternate route, branching off the Buffalo Creek Trail, which added another mile and a half or so to my hike. The cut off to that trail was located close to the Bluffs side trail cut off.

Somehow or another, I missed the cutoff turn to Sal Hollow. How this happened I'm not sure because it is pretty obvious where the trail connects with the Buffalo Creek trail. I just simply walked right past it without seeing it, and this is why I ended up at the old cemetery. By the time I realized what had happened, my troublesome hip was hurting and my legs were a bit tired and my desire to backtrack and continue hiking down to Sal Hollow had pretty much evaporated.

Leaning against a corner fence post, I stood at the entrance to the cemetery and surveyed the 1/4 acre or so of headstones most of which appeared to be heavily weathered. I chose at that time not to take a closer look at this well kept plot of land. It was clean, not overgrown, and possessed a peaceful, rustic value all its own and I thought the light would be better later in the day to capture a few photos within its boundaries. Before moving on, I looked at the map and realized my mistake of missing the turn, then sighed as my rebellious hip dictated against any further heavy hiking for the day, so I decided to setup camp near the cemetery.

Even though the area is not a designated campsite, I thought it would be okay to stay there for the afternoon and one evening and I found a nice flat area off in the woods, a few yards in front of the cemetery and pitched my tent. A thick layer of leaves provided a soft cushion however, a burn ban was in effect so no fires were allowed. I would not have created one anyway as it was much too windy to be safe with all those leaves blowing around. That's why I always pack my venerable Coleman Peak 1 packer stove.

Throughout the afternoon I meandered around the area looking for photo ops snapping pictures here and there. The wind worked the tops of the trees pretty much all day, and with each gust hundreds of leaves would spin across and fall onto the woodland floor like a work of leaf art showcasing various shades of brown, red, and yellow snow. It was this canopy of color that caught my attention photographically and I spent a lot of time and covered a lot of ground simply looking up to find suitable compositions on high. 

It was during this time I began to hear the laughter of a small child off in the distance. At first I wasn't sure of what I was hearing. It was a tiny, subtle, yet happy voice really, one that seemed somewhat distant, yet hauntingly real and innocent. What was troubling about it was, just how haunting it sounded for it seemed to flow across and through the woods not coming from any particular direction. It seemed to emanate from all around like it was a part of the ambient atmosphere. There was no real pattern to it as it occurred at random times ever so often. I'd be working the camera and hear it again as slightly more than a whisper, but distinct, almost like it was trying to catch my attention without being too obvious.

I really did not think too much about it at first, yet I would turn my head trying to pinpoint from where it was coming, but mostly I simply explored the surrounding woods looking for photo opportunities. Over the next hour or so, I continued to look for photographic opportunities and as the afternoon progressed, the laughter continued to randomly occur, yet it became more prominent, a more distinct echo through the woods. Eventually, I made it back to the cemetery and this time I stepped into it to take a closer look at the headstones. 

To my dismay, many of the headstones were carved with the names, birth dates, and death dates...of young children.

A chill ran through my spine as I read a few of the inscriptions; 

William J. 

Son of R and E Davis

Born Sept 12, 1861 

Died Aug 14, 1864.

I stepped over to another one of an adult;

J N Miles

Born Aug 1, 1847

                                                           Died Oct 27, 1886

I continued on to several others a few of which told the sad stories of just babies who were no more than a few weeks old. Many of the headstones were simple stones with no markings on them and appeared to have been taken from the surrounding area and placed as a simple memorial to mark the grave of someone. There were headstones marking the lives of wives and husbands, but the most sad ones were the ones of infant sons and daughters of which there were several. This small plot of sacred earth spoke of the struggles those who tried to tame this rugged land must have endured.

Eventually, I continued on, looking for a composition to photograph, but randomly through the afternoon up until almost dark, I kept hearing that child's laughter in the background. I guess through the afternoon I must have heard it at least 8 or 10 times, maybe more. 

Eventually, I discovered what appeared to be the foundation of an old cabin consisting of large squared off boulders taken from the surrounding landscape. The structure itself was long gone, but the foundation was unmistakable. I figured it must have belonged to some early homesteaders from long ago. While there, I again heard the soft laughter and I wondered what connection this old cabin had with the names of those from the cemetery.

Not being someone who is prone to over play his hand or allow his imagination run away, I tried to convince myself it was just the wind rubbing tree limbs together, but the laughter of a small child sounded so real, yet far off and so dream-like, I had a difficult time reconciling what I was experiencing. Later that night as I lay inside the tent reading a true adventure book, I subconsciously listened for something that may be related to the sounds, but can not for sure say I heard anything except possibly for one faint, remnant laugh of a child playing off in the distance. In time, I drifted off to sleep as the wind continued to blow across the trees through the night.

The next day began as a routine breaking camp morning; a quick oatmeal breakfast, tearing down the tent, packing away the gear, then the short hike out to the junction trail that would take me to The Buffs area. The wind continued to blow throughout the chilly day. While I was setting up camp at the new location, a time or two I thought I heard that laughter again, way off and even fainter than before...coming from the direction of the cemetery which was maybe a half mile or so away as the crow flies over the other side of the ridge. 

The rest of the second day was uneventful and my thoughts were consumed with searching for photographs, making video clips, and resting my troublesome hip. By that evening, I was pretty tired and called it an early day. 

As I lay in my tent that second evening reading, just after dark, I heard what was the most chilling and heart stopping sound of the entire trip. The best I can describe, it sounded like a very loud screeching / hollowing, that lasted about six or seven seconds, followed by some faint rustling of leaves and cracking of small branches, the sound of movement, across the ravine like something was walking over there. Then all was quiet except for the breeze that still moved across the trees, and it never happened again occurring only that one time. Even so, with the events of the previous day still fresh in my mind, it was an eye opening sound, one in all my years of camping in the woods, I had never heard before. 

The next day was spent hiking back to the real world. All the while as I was walking down the trail, I listened for that child's laughter, but never again did it materialize, just the sound made by the continuing wind cutting across the trees and a few birds singing a cheerful song. 

With each step, and during each rest stop, I pondered about the lives of those who were buried in that cemetery, especially those of the children. Who were they really, and what heartaches did they endure? 

What was the sound I heard? I'm not sure, but it sounded like a small child playing and laughing. Maybe it was just the wind...but maybe...just maybe...it was a haunting echo from times past.

When Frost Settles: Don't Wait Until It's Too Late

 I stepped outside one cold morning and inhaled the crisp air of the late fall season. Most of the leaves had already dropped and covered the yard like a multi-colored blanket. Around the perimeter and scattered across my little acre stretched tall trees; beech, hickory, a few oaks, sugar maples, and other assorted kinds, mostly bare now, but some still retained remnants of their fall colored coatings. Fallen leaves, mostly dried and brittle, crunched under foot as I trod toward the end of the yard and then into the wooded area beyond.

 I weaved my way through the woods, ducking under low hanging limbs, stopping ever so often to examine the evidence of a deer rub where the bark of a three inch thick sapling was scrapped off exposing the brighter under bark of the smallish trunk. 'Must have been a nice buck that made this one...' I thought to myself as I felt along the rough edges of the rub. At the end of the woods, the area opened into a corn field, just stubble now all dry and brown, but casting a subtle and distinct aroma of dried earth and harvested corn stalks.

 I stopped for a moment and took in another deep breath. The chill of the morning continued to hover silently across the landscape, yet I felt warmed now from the walk. It felt good to be there, able and ready to experience the natural world at its best, something my heart and soul needs from time to time, even more now that I am retired. It's when the frost settles across the land that makes all the difference...and winter is not far off where snow will cover these same fields.

For close to 30 years I worked in the high tech, hurried pace of the IT world, and before that spent far too many years following a dead end career that almost broke my spirit. That stretch of years provided a steady living for my family offering a means to an end I'm grateful for, but it was a high price I paid for it. During that time my adventures afield were limited to a few days here and there, a morning, an afternoon, then back at it working on the details of too many high pressure projects with un-realistic deadlines. Not only did I feel stressed, I was stressed, far more than I realized, to the point it began to show. Other friends and even family members noticed, asking my wife if I was okay...I looked really tired and burnt out...which I was. Somehow, I muttered through, one day at a time, often staring out the window day-dreaming about floating in my canoe, or fishing, or camping beside a sparkling set of shoals.

The time eventually came when I was able to retire, a bit early, the circumstances leading up to that moment are not important, but the effect of doing so was. Even so, it took a few years for the stress level to subside, but it eventually did and I began to realize just how much time had slipped by and how little of the adventures I so enjoyed were missed. Even though I've tried to stay in shape and I've done a respectable job of doing so, time and age does catch up. A troublesome hip, more general aches and pains, longer recovery times, well, they all generate a slowing down enough so the level or degree at which I can participate doing the things I enjoy so much has been tempered. Hasn't stopped me, and now I get out more than I ever did when I was younger. Can't push it too hard, but I do push it right up to what I know is my limit, then I back off.

As I stood next to that corn stubble field, the cool morning air hovered around my eyes generating a wind born tear that blurred my vision. Across the way a few deer worked their way along the edges looking up toward me from time to time just to make sure I was no threat. Their once tawny coats were now turning winter gray and the little ones born the previous spring were almost as large as their mothers. Overhead a Redtail hawk screeched as it sailed effortlessly across the field expanse then disappeared beyond the tree line. What had been a brilliant morning sun, suddenly closed down as a bank of darkened clouds moved in and the crisp fall morning became almost cold. 

Later that afternoon, I made my way over to the pond at the far end of that corn field. I sat partially hidden and camouflaged at one end of the pond and in a short time a family of squirrels chased each other through the woods to eventually and cautiously meander down to the pond for a cool drink. They were fun to watch and as silently as I could snapped a few long range photo's of these interesting and energetic creatures. 

As I sat there waiting for the sun to settle toward night, I was thankful to once again have the health and vigor enough to enjoy doing such things, and I was thankful for the time to do them. 

When the frost settles across the land is a special time of year where the seasons mark a dramatic shift toward winter. In previous years I had all but lost contact with such moments and had almost waited too late to enjoy them. I suppose the lesson here is to not allow life to get in the way of living. Don't wait until it is too late, for frost can quickly settle across a persons world, so much so, enjoying the simple things of life are far too often lost over time.

A Backpackers Photography Guide

 I stood motionless for a moment to rest my troublesome hip. My 25 year old Jansport pack felt somewhat heavier now several miles into my hike across the backcountry of Mammoth Cave National Park. The air was crisp and clean with a bright sun and blue sky accenting the magnificent fall colors that were just now beginning to explode across the landscape. Over my shoulder I carried a small tripod with my Nikon camera attached which I use almost exclusively for video. Attached to the camera was a sensitive microphone that improved the audio quality of the video clips I made with it. My Sony along with a couple of lenses were packed away inside my pack. 

With somewhat of a relieved grunt, I unbuckled the pack waist belt, and slid the 40 plus pounds off my shoulders. For a few moments I simply listened to my surroundings. Silence was most of what I detected, at first, then deep in the woods a few birds gave away their position. A fall breeze caressed the upper reaches of the tall, ancient trees adding its song to the birds. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a squirrel chattered his disapproval of something he saw. There was a quietness combined with soft melodies of a deep woods speaking to me as I sat propped against a nearby tree trunk. It was time to breakout my Sony for a few still shots of this magical place.

Backpacking and photography can be an ideal combination for a photographer, but it can also become a cumbersome burden if not approached with the right mindset. The way I approach this combination is based on a good number of years of backpack and canoe camping experience, for in many ways, they use very similar in approaches.

Backpacking of course requires you carry your gear on your back. It is physically demanding at times, which demands a certain level of fitness to be able to at least somewhat comfortably and safely to pull it off. The idea about gathering your gear for backpacking follows the same axiom as canoe camping: Keep it Simple, Keep it Light, Keep it Low, and Keep it Tight. The basic gear requirements are Pack, shelter/sleeping, food/cooking, water. 

Backpack. A backpack needs to be of sufficient size to accommodate your gear, including camera gear. Five thousand to six thousand cubic inches is not too large. The pack needs to have strong, padded, adjustable shoulder straps and a wide padded waist belt. A competent gear specialist at any good sporting goods store can help you with finding a pack that not only has the capacity to carry your gear, but also fits well, is flexible, and moves with you. 

One professional wildlife photographer I follow often carries a pack with all his camera and camping gear that weighs in around 35 kilos. That's over 75 lbs. He's also about six foot five and weighs about 215 pounds. Most people will not be comfortable carrying that much on their back. On average, 35 to 40 lbs is okay for most average sized men with 40 lbs being somewhat on the heavy side, while most women will be comfortable with 25 to 35 lbs. On the day I described above, my pack and camera gear came to a little over 45lbs with the camera gear contributing about 15lbs of that amount.

Shelters can be a simple tarp strung between two trees, or a small packers tent. Depending on time of year and location, protection from mosquitos and other creepy crawlies usually demands some kind of a tent with a mosquito netting enclosure. Finding the right tent for your comfort can often be a confusing endeavor, but the idea here is weight. 

A one person tent is more than adequate and is usually smaller and lighter in weight. Tarps of course are very light and offer a rustic example of outdoorsmanship. During the fall after the bug season is over, tarps can be a good idea. Weather is a concern when using one as a hard blow may cause your gear to get wet. Hammocks have become quite popular in recent years and offer a comfortable alternative to the tarp/tent options. Rigged with a light weight tarp over the top and they provide a very nice cozy home.

Sleeping most often requires a sleeping bag. There are numerous example of bags with down filled, or high quality synthetic filler being the most popular. Down is great as it is light and compresses into a small volume. It is somewhat expensive, and must be kept dry as if it ever gets wet it will loose its heat retaining qualities until it dries out. Synthetic fillers are less expensive, provide good quality warmth even when wet, and dry out quickly. They do not compress as well and require somewhat more filler to obtain a given temperature rating. 

A sleeping pad of some kind is a real plus. These can range from self inflating full length pads, to smaller and lighter air mattresses. Both do a good job, with the self inflating full length pads providing more durability, but tend to be bulkier while the air mattress approach works well but can be somewhat less durable. Sleeping bags are rated to a temperature range. The one I use is over 25 years old, filled with synthetic Quallofil and when new was rated to 0 degrees F. It is still a good bag and remains quite comfortable if not a bit bulky. Some bags are multi-season bags, meaning they are good for 2 to 3-seasons or 4-seasons. I'd pick a good 4-season bag.

Food is very important and should be nutritious and filling, and taste good. There are so many freeze dried packer food options today it is all but impossible to discuss them, but this is the way to go for extended trips. They are a bit pricey, but so much lighter and they really are quite good. Just add boiling water and wait a few minutes and you have a quick nutritious meal. For a simple overnighter, a quick visit to the grocery store and you can discover all kinds of food options that do not require refrigeration. Weight again is the concern, so keep it as light as possible without sacrificing quality. Instant oatmeal, trail snacks, granola bars, jerky, energy bars, quick rice, are all good options for backpacking.

Cooking can become an issue depending on the weather. Even the most experienced backpacker can have trouble building a fire during a downpour. There are numerous packer stoves available. The type of fuel they use verses the energy they produce varies considerably. I use a 40 year old Coleman Peak One packer stove. It uses standard Coleman fuel, works like a charm, and will boil a pot of water in no time. It has been all but flawless for these 40 years of operation. The only drawback is it is a bit heavy and can leak out of the filler cap if the internal pressure is not released after use. An extra aluminum bottle of fuel can be useful for extended outings. The use of a small metal cup, or small pot will work for almost any cooking that requires hot water. A small light weight skillet is handy for frying options.

Water is always a problem. It is heavy, and sometimes not readily available. I usually carry a small Nalgene bottle for on the trail drinking. I also use a water filtering system from PUR to replenish my supply as needed. There are numerous styles of water purification systems. Mine is a pump type. Other simply use gravity by hanging a source in one bag and allowing it to filter through into another container. Do not compromise with this. Get a good quality water filter system and you will never have any issues with potential tainted water sources. No filter? Simply boil the water for several minutes and allow it to cool. That will kill anything that might cause a problem.

As a quick overview of the basic backpacking gear, I'm sure it falls short on many aspects. I'm pretty old school when it comes to backpacking and my gear reflects much of that. Gear available today is far more efficient, way lighter, and pricier. My old gear has served me well, and I see no real need to upgrade...mostly anyway. The newest piece of gear I have is still a good 15 years old. Oh well. It works for me.

As far as the photography aspect goes, it's an open book as to what works best. For the most part, what works best for you may be entirely different than for me, as your needs may differ from mine. Cell phone cameras today do an amazing job and they are light weight too. However, they still have some limitations. I for one prefer to use my standard digital camera equipment because I believe it provides a wider range of capabilities. Weight here is again a factor. Just your basic survival gear can accumulate in weight very quickly. Toss in a camera body or two, a couple of extra lenses and batteries, then a tripod, and you can easily add another 10 to 15 lbs to your pack.

Here is what I usually take. One solid, but light weight tripod. It's rather small, but provides good support, and you really do not need much. Two cameras, one primarily for video using a basic kit lens, and one I use mostly for still photos, but I also will use it for video as well. An external microphone that attaches to the hot shoe on the camera. This really does help as it allows me to stand off a ways but have my voice amplified. For my still picture camera I bring two lens. An 18 - 50mm and a 75 - 300mm zoom. Both are relatively small and compact and most importantly, light weight. Their combination gives me all the focal range I need. Toss in some extra batteries, a remote cable release/intervelometer, and an extra card and I'm good to go. This combination is actually a bit too much. I can get by with one camera and lens and a small tripod. It just depends on what you want to accomplish. As I also shoot video footage, both A and B roll, I most often require two cameras, but I've also been known to curse the extra weight as I am hiking in or out, so...pack wisely.

What makes the combination of backpacking and photography so appealing it the fact that you are there. Being there is half the logistics. The idea of placing yourself where the most potential exists opens up all kinds of photography potential. You will begin to see things you might otherwise overlook. As opposed to rushing through a shoot, it becomes easier to simply slow down and allow what nature has to offer to present herself to you. I tend to limit the mileage of the hike so I can base camp when I am concentrating on photography. I'll hike into a location, set up camp, then spent the rest of the day(s) simply exploring the surrounding area. I may look for specific setups, or most often, a photo op simply jumps out at me. I'll see something during the morning light that may well present a completely different look by that evening. Sometimes I'll just sit and allow what is there to reveal itself.

Concentrating on photography during a backpacking trip keeps you occupied and focused on an objective. Many times I've left the camera at home to just get away for a while. There are many benefits from doing such a thing, but the days can get long just sitting around relaxing. With a camera in hand, I  begin to see my surroundings with a different eye. The atmosphere of the location becomes much more alive and vivid when I can visualize the light as it streams into view. The sights, sounds, and vibrations of being in nature for an extended period of time become engrained into the moment. I love it. I seek it out. I am absorbed by the experience. 

There is nothing better for a photographer when a truly unique moment of light presents itself. Having placed yourself in a location to allow such moments to happen, well, makes all the physical effort of getting there all the more worthwhile.