By Rick Hinton
A reprint from July of 2016
A paranormal investigator’s journey, thus far, into a world of darkness:
The southernmost region of Kentucky introduced an inquisitive youth to a realm of possibilities. The ghost stories of family members only added fuel to the fire. And, there was the darkness at night, thick and heavy, without the benefit of any city lights; there was no city, just a small, unassuming town. What is it about a rural country town still locked in the history of past decades, and also locked firmly in the hold of summer nights where crickets sung out across rolling fields of tobacco joined with armies of fireflies appearing as late evening surrendered into the grasp of the night? What stirred my imagination and guided me along this path I pursue today? Was it the story from my mother about her seeing the apparition of her deceased sister on the gravel road across from her childhood home? Was it my grandmother’s reluctance to talk about it? Or … was it the lone, dimly lit, streetlight’s feeble illumination across my grandparent’s front lawn that created a defined boundary between darkness and light; the unknown and security?
The Grand Canyon in Arizona, where a curious lad in his early 20s discovered the West only imagined in his youth; and a healthy dose of John Wayne movies. There was most definitely darkness in that canyon! We learned very quickly to sojourn during the hot daylight hours and then do most our hiking at night – in the dark – when it was cooler. On most occasions I would take the lead, sometimes by a mile or so, leaving my fellow backpackers far behind. I was alone, picking out the trail by the light of the moon.
The darkness and whitewash of moonlight brought out an eerie quiet, only interrupted by the rustle of my backpack and my labored breathing. It gave me solitary time to ponder this foreign landscape of shadows and mystery. I moved through a world of desert, pink rattlesnakes, cactus, wild mules and tall dark shadows that seemed to follow me in my peripheral vision. I thought often of author Carlos Casteneda and his books. This also became my introduction to UFOs as I watched them ping-pong across the horizon above the canyon walls.
During my years in Portland, Ore., I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time in the mountains, particularly Mt. Hood. It was quite the contrast from the relatively flat Indiana landscape. It was during those nighttime explorations that I realized (and embraced) a different world after sunset. It was amazing how childhood emotions – including insecurities – reemerged as a result of the flickering flame of a campfire illuminating a narrow expanse of the surrounding tree line; and not being able to see what lies just behind it. Along with the fire came the sounds of trampled brush, falling branches, grunts and snorts, with multiple pairs of glowing eyes just out of reach in the blackness.
Darkness brings about the realization that we are perhaps out of our element; and the feeling of being very small and alone. A life of possibilities occasionally reveal themselves in short, quick glimpses of insight and then just as quickly are gone. At the end of the day, these glimpses can make a profound statement.
Ghosts, spooks, spirits, goblins, Bigfoot and UFOs all seem to coexist in a world of darkness. Night is their time to come out to play. Perhaps, it’s our time to observe.
