Posted 05 April 2010 - 05:52 PM
I am very familiar with Rock-a dundee Road from the late '50s and early 60's. Myself and 3 friends used to hunt, fish, camp, and generally explore this area when we were in our teens. We would fish a brook that ran from Somers to the Hampden area, culminating at the end of Rocky dundee at a place we knew as the "Atherton Estate". We'd sneak into the water below the dam in the early morning hours and catch a creel full of dark brook trout - size running from 6 - 14 inches. If we left it alone for a week or two, we could repeat the catch and fill our creels again. One winter we decided to do some "winter camping" next to the brook, about 1 mile back toward Somers and about a quarter mile walk in from the road to the East. We had tents, warm sleeping bags, enough vittles for a few days, and our trusty 22 rifles. We intended to shoot squirrels and rabbits for meat and see if we could make it for 5 days. It was a winter school break and we had nothing better to do than to seek adventure. Well, the day we set camp, the temperature dropped out of the thermometer. Everything froze solid - the brook was covered with ice and snow, the animals all disappeared, and our firewood demand shot way up. After the 2nd day we heard a trudging sound coming our way from the road and in a few minutes my Dad appeared with some warm food from home - enough for all. We scarfed it down and insisted that "everything was just fine". Dad urged us to give it up but we insisted we needed to see this through. He left us without too much of a concern showing on his face but we found out later that had we not quit the next day as we did he was prepared to drag us out. That last night, the temperature dropped to 30 below! Yes, 30 below! We couldn't sleep in our tents because frost would form inside and the heat from the fire wasn't sufficient to warm us at all. We all dragged our sleeping bags out and surrounded the fire which we fed all night with poor barely dry firewood. We scrounged a large area looking for any wood that would burn during the day, building a fire of huge proportion at night to keep from freezing to death. Frank, Buddy, Monsterello, and I made it a total of 3 days before we retreated. It was no fun at all but we were proud of the fact that we survived and were now convinced we could survive anything in the wilderness experience. We were not aware of any ghosts or anything of the sort - perhaps our noisy shenannagans during the night from our winter camp were interpreted by passers by as those wailings of ghosts. This was all in about 1957-58 as best as I can recall. We always had much fun and adventure in the "wilderness" that we knew as Rockydundee Road.