19/ It wasn’t a path exactly, but it also didn’t look like a natural break in the tree line. The long wild grass we’d been pushing through stopped short of the edge, and the break we’d spotted was more like... a corridor amid the trees. A perfectly straight break maybe 40ft back.
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20/ On either side of the corridor was thick trees and underbrush, but right down the corridor (maybe 4-5 feet across), there was no undergrowth. The grass was short—almost like it was mowed or maintained. All the way back. At the very end of this corridor was a stone.
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21/ It was a really weird stone. Maybe 4 feet high and rounded at the top. Just standing upright. Perfectly centered there at the back. It almost looked like a tombstone of some kind, but it didn’t have any writing we could make out from where we were.
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22/ The corridor was weirdly inviting too. Bugs lazily flitted across it and sunshine poured in. It was quiet and relaxed in the late, mild afternoon. To this day the vibe I get when I remember is like that forest corridor where you pull the master sword out in Link to the Past.
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23/ But the weird thing is that it was strange enough that it creeped all three of us out. We stood there for a minute discussing it and trying to guess what it might be or how the weird corridor could have gotten there or been maintained like it appeared.
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24/ We wanted to inspect the stone more closely, but none of us was willing to approach it. Nobody wanted to walk down toward it. We were very, very freaked out by this. Now, I’m a little neurotic, but my friends are not easily ruffled types.
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25/ Z went on to spend a few years working for the forest service in the very same area of the boundary waters later, and both of the guys with me were experienced hikers and campers who normally would have teased me if I was being dumb or skittish. They were freaked too.
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26/ We decided it was a better idea to leave the weird rock alone and just head back to camp rather than going to check it out—even though we had no logical reason for this and weren’t even that high any more. It just felt safer for some reason. We returned the way we’d came.
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27/ After another slightly less miserable night on the island my friends agreed to cut the trip short since I hadn’t packed correctly, and we paddled away, waving goodbye to our chipmunk friend who sat on the campfire logs and watched us go.
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28/ For years, we talked about how weird the experience had been for us—not only the area itself but the fact that we’d felt so spooked that we didn’t want to approach it. It wasn’t a normal reaction. Our friends all still think this is very silly and we were just high.
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this is false i instantly believed you
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