It’s a long road, with very little between the place you just left and the place you need to go. It always feels a little creepy.
It’s worse when you’re alone.
You have to drive that road and you wonder, is this the ride? Will it happen this time? Is this the time you’ll see the ghost? Will she be walking aimlessly along, wearing the long gown she always wears, staring blankly ahead? Or will she be standing on the side of the road, waving you down, clearly in need of help. And you don’t know why you do it, but you stop. You stop and you let her into your car. You’ll drive along for a short while, and she’ll sit silently just inches away. When you finally glance over to ask her what her name is and where she’s going –
She’ll be gone.
I did a little Googling. Okay, I Googled 52 times. And I found tales of haunted roads in all 50 states.
Washington DC and Puerto Rico too.
Every haunted stretch of road I found has a story about the death of a woman or her child somewhere along the road (the vast majority of haunted roads are home to female ghosts, but there are a few ghostly men out there, and a handful of ghostly children). Actual historic facts backing the stories up are elusive. Many of the stories behind the hauntings appear to be nothing more than rumor or urban legend.
Why so many ghostly roads? Is it active imagination? Bored people trying to scare each other on a long trip with made up stories?
Ghosts? Actual ghosts relentlessly wandering roads across the country?
Maybe I’m just overthinking it. After all, there are way more haunted houses per state than there are haunted roads. Why couldn’t there be haunted roads?
I have no idea. But there are indeed haunted roads everywhere. Including the Black Woods Road in Maine, just down the road from where I live. So just as the last of Maine’s spring snow was melting away, I drove the Black Woods Road.
Actually, I’ve driven the Black Woods Road, like, 100+ times if you want the truth.
Route 182 connects Cherryfield and Franklin Maine. And a stretch of Route 182 is known as the Black Woods Road, with haunted Catherine’s Hill right at its heart.
The Black Woods Road waits for you just off Route 1, heading deep into Downeast Maine. Just a shortcut, although it’s not a logical place for a shortcut. And it’s not particularly short. Oldtimers can’t say why such a shortcut would have been created – unless you were looking for the rumored precious metals in the area. Or maybe it started as a trail accessing some sweet fishing spots along that road, or prime hunting sites.
You start with a left turn off Route 1 onto Route 182 as you head downeast. Franklin is a quiet little town boasting a gas station. Some houses. Not much more. But it’s nice. Route 182 cuts right through the middle of Franklin.
And then the houses grow fewer. And with the last house miles behind you, you enter the heart of the Black Woods.
The Black Woods – sounds pretty creepy, eh???
Not all that creepy, actually. Colonel John Black once owned the land. That’s where the name comes from. At the heart of the Black Woods, there’s a large hill (or small mountain?) called Catherine’s Hill, and the Black Woods Road takes you right over the top. Legend says Catherine’s Hill is named for the ghost said to reside there. They say she appears on the side of the road, looking for a ride through the woods – sometimes she wants to be taken towards Ellsworth and sometimes she wants to be taken towards the town of Machias.
They say if you refuse her a ride, you will never reach your destination alive.
Those wise enough to pick Catherine up and avoid a terrible fate are forced to endure her cold company until she disappears from the car.
Skeptics trying to debunk the whole story have sworn that the name Catherine comes from the name of Colonel Black’s daughter, Catherine. I was unable to confirm he ever had a daughter named Catherine, so there goes that theory.
Legend says Catherine was a woman on her way home from a dancehall in the 1940s (or the 1930s, or the 1920s) on a snowy night. Her boyfriend (or husband, or date) lost control of the car, and Catherine was killed instantly. She is forever trying to reach her home. I’ve been through local newspapers from the late 1920s through the late 1930s, but I found no stories from that time supporting the backstory for the Catherine haunting. In the many times Catherine’s been written about (the story is a Halloween staple in Maine newspapers), I’ve never seen any facts that support the story of how Catherine died. No names, no dates, no nothing.
There is one confirmed death along the Black Woods Road that I know of. Kenneth Kramer left his home in 1983 with a group of people none of his family or friends could identify. His body was later found several miles from his home on Route 182 by a passing motorist.
The murder was never solved.
I attended school at the University Maine Machias and because of that, I’ve traveled the Black Woods Road many times over the years, at all hours of the day and night.
I’ve never seen a damn thing on that road. But I have definitely been creeped out. Driving alone through the Black Woods it’s hard not to think about all the stories you’ve been told over the years. On more than one occasion, I’ve found myself glancing in the rearview mirror more often than normal. And when I look into that rearview mirror while driving over Catherine’s Hill, I am desperately hoping nothing’s looking back. I’m confident any creepy sensation I’ve felt on that road was due to thinking about the ghostly Catherine stories, and not Catherine herself.
But you never know…
Have you fellow Mainers ever seen Catherine? Or maybe you’ve been on another stretch of road in another state – please share in the comments! And I promise to tell you if I ever meet up with Catherine!
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