by Thomas White
The Irwin Road street sign. Authors’ collection.
Irwin Road at Babcock Boulevard, 1936. Courtesy of Northland Public Library.
Irwin Run meanders alongside Irwin Road/Blue Mist Road for almost its entire length. Courtesy of Justina White.
One might wonder how Irwin Road became known as Blue Mist Road. The origin of that name is one part of the story that can be verified. In certain weather conditions, moisture rising off Irwin Run creates a faint mist or fog that hangs over low parts of the road. When the beam of a flashlight shines through it in the dark, it appears to have a faint blue tinge. Of course, this mist has been linked to the other ghost stories that we will discuss and has even been said to take on phantasmal shapes.
As far as it can be determined, the road’s original ghost story involved a car and a tragic accident. Some of the details vary, but the story has generally been consistent throughout the years. In most accounts, a family was driving down the narrow road at night when a drunk driver came speeding from the opposite direction. With nowhere to go, the family’s car swerved off the side and wrecked into a tree. The entire family was killed by the impact. Sometimes it is said that it was a deer, not a drunk driver, that caused the car to veer off of the road. Ever since the crash, the ghosts of the family linger at the site of their untimely death.
In the decades since, legend trippers have sought out the ghosts. When the road was still open, they could drive their cars to the spot where the accident happened. The specific location of the accident varied according to who was asked, and several different spots were suggested over the years. Once your car was at the location, the legend instructed you to put it in neutral and wait. Slowly, your car would be pushed back up the road, against gravity, away from the scene of the accident. If your car happened to be dusty or dirty, handprints might have been left on the car after it stopped moving.
Another of the early legends, which probably started around the same time as the accident story, involved tombstones in the cemetery along Route 910, which is located directly across from the northern end of Blue Mist Road. Cross Roads Cemetery is the home of a pair of tombstones that lean toward each other. According to the story, the graves are that of a husband and wife. Something supernatural reportedly occurred with the tombstones one night each month. Under the light of the full moon, the two stones moved several inches and touched each other. It was as if the stones belonging to the couple leaned together to kiss. By the next day, they would return to their normal, slightly leaning positions. This version of the tombstone legend lasted for many years. One local resident who attended high school not far from North Park, Andy Grejda, recalls hearing the almost identical story in the late 1980s and early ’90s. Having remained consistent since the early 1970s, the legend would undergo only one major change a few years after Grejda heard the tale.
A variant of the tombstone legend emerged among young legend trippers in the mid-1990s, though both versions would exist simultaneously. In the new version, the tombstones are always moving toward each other very slowly. When the stones finally touch, it will signify the end of the world. An account of this version was given by a twenty-five-year-old man named Matt in 2004. He had been visiting Blue Mist Road occasionally for over ten years and had first heard about the tombstones when he was fourteen or fifteen years old from his friend Scott. At the time of the interview, he had recently taken his girlfriend to the road. He said, “Anyway, I took her to show her the tombstones, though, and they’re closer together than they were, like, ten years ago when I went there with Scott. But Scott told me that whenever they touch, the world’s going to—the world will end. And they’re, like, very close now. They’re within inches of each other. And they are moving.”
The leaning tombstones in Crossroads Cemetery, across from Irwin Road. Authors’ collection.
During the early to mid-1970s, a more ominous legend became attached to the isolated road. Rumors circulated among high school students in the surrounding communities that the Ku Klux Klan was holding meetings there. It was even claimed that members used one of the road’s few houses for their activities. The members of the Klan were said to have carried out lynchings along the road and committed other murders. One young woman who worked at the North Park Boathouse in the early 2000s described what she had heard about the Klan. She said, “And then there’s—I don’t know what road it’s called, but it’s like, across—like when you go across the bridge up there, and then there’s that sign that says Road Closed. But I guess there’s like a house or a few houses around there that people used to live in and did KKK rituals and stuff. And I know like fifteen years ago, somebody—one of the officers in the park, actually—told me that fifteen years ago, there was a baby, like, sacrificed.”
Another woman recalled hearing about the Klan on the road when she was in high school, around 1979 or 1980. She remembered, “We never heard many details about the Ku Klux Klan. I think we went out there a couple times to have a few beers out in the woods. It was a creepy though. Some people said the KKK lynched a black man out there. Maybe some other people too. They said his ghost haunts the road now. But we never saw anything.”
One of the alleged hanging trees on Blue Mist Road. Authors’ collection.
There was a second element to the Klan legend that especially seemed to capture the attention of legend trippers. The Klan allegedly carried out their lynchings at a particular tree, known rather unimaginatively as the hanging tree. Said to be a large tree with thick branches, there was another supernatural characteristic that set it apart from the hundreds of other trees that grew alongside the road. When the moon was full, the hanging tree would bleed. Of course, if one identified the tree, he or she might also encounter the ghosts of its unfortunate victims, either as an apparition or by hearing their ghostly voices in the woods. And there was always the implied danger that one might encounter a group of Klansmen who would not be happy about being discovered.
Many different trees have been suggested as the hanging tree over the years, and they have inspired many stories. Though many of the stories identify one or more African Americans as the victim, some warn of the dangers of seeking out the tree. A man named Jeff shared a story like this that he heard in middle school in the late 1980s:
It’s, you know, your typical urban legend story where a guy and his girlfriend went down there, ran out of gas—they were, you know, gonna get hot and heavy—and the guy said, “Stay in the car,” to the girl, and you know, “I’ll be back, don’t leave the car.” Well, he didn’t return, and after a while, the girl—the girl was frightened—but after a while fell asleep and when she woke up in the morning, the boyfriend was hanging from what they call the hanging tree. And if you go down Blue Mist, you can see there’s a tree that goes from the side of the road and there’s a branch that crosses the road overtop of it where, you know, it could’ve happened.
The implication is that the teenagers were not safe from the Klan, even though in most versions they are assumed to be white. Legends of the Klan inhabiting the road combined a sense of real physical danger with the possible dangers of the supernatural. Brian Mckee, who grew up in West View, not far from the park, recalled hearing a similar story involving the hanging tree and an unsuspecting couple on the road. He heard the story from his older brother and his friends around 1983 when he was about ten years old. He explains:
How it was explained to me was—and of course it was nighttime—A man and a woman got married, and I was never told their names but it was the night of their wedding and they were going to stay at a hotel or bed and breakfast–type establishment near Irwin Road, aka Blue Mist Road. After driving down the road their car started to sputter and stall. It slowly came to a halt, and the husband drifted it off to the right side of the road. He tried to restart the car several times, but to no avail. So they sat there for a little while and talked about how it was their wedding night and how they could still get where they were going. The husband got out and looked at the
engine, then he opened the door and told his wife that he was going to go down the road to get help. He told her to stay in the car and lock the doors. So he left and proceeded down the road in the direction of the place that they were going to be staying.
After he was out of view, a thick fog or mist engulfed the road and the area. I always think of it as a mist that was hit with moonlight maybe. The wife ends up waiting for quite some time and begins to worry. She doesn’t know how far down the road he was going, but she thought he should have been back by now. As her worry started to get worse she starts to hear scraping on the roof, and it starts to get a bit windy out. It was a light scrape, not real loud, but a slow and steady scrape. So fear starts to set in, but she finally overcomes her fear and gets out of the vehicle. Upon getting out she sees her husband hanging upside down from a tree, and his hands—with the wind blowing—his hands are lightly brushing against the roof of the car. She, of course, freaks out and runs down the road in the direction that her husband went, and she is never heard from again. And that’s how the story ends, at least how it was told to me.
This pale and dead tree was once thought by some to be the hanging tree. Its branches once stretched over the road. Courtesy of Justina White.
Though the Ku Klux Klan is not explicitly mention in the account that McKee heard, there is something physically dangerous that killed the man at the hanging tree.
The 1980s also brought what was perceived as an even more frightening blend of supernatural and physical dangers. Starting around 1980 or 1981 and peaking around 1989 and 1990, tales circulated that satanic cults and a witch’s coven were using the road as a site for their dark rituals. Andy Grejda remembers hearing rumors of satanic cult activity along Blue Mist Road in the late 1980s. The cults were supposedly worshipping the devil, holding black masses and carrying out sacrifices. Though such stories were vague, they circulated widely among local high school students at the time.
Some believed that the Satanists sacrificed virgins and babies at a “cult house” or a “witch house” just off the road. Their rituals allegedly summoned evil spirits and demonic forces to guard the road and protect their cults. It was even said that the Devil himself walked the road on certain nights of the year. His bipedal hoof prints could be seen in the mud or snow. In addition to demonic forces, the tormented spirits of the cult’s victims were also trapped on the crumbling road, haunting any who ventured there at night.
Evidence of the cult’s occupation was left in the form of sacrificed animals and occult-themed graffiti. Occasionally, small animals and even deer carcasses have been discovered along the road, seemingly mutilated. (The authors once discovered a slaughtered deer on the road.) Pentagrams, 666s and other writing was frequently found in paint or chalk on the road, surrounding trees and other surfaces.
It was also in the 1980s that barricades went up along Blue Mist Road, preventing cars from using most of the stretch. Lacking an apparent explanation, the barriers also became part of the legend. Some people believed that the police were covering up cult activity and had blocked the road to prevent anyone else from falling victim. There were at least a few people who believed that some of the police may have actually been members of the cult themselves.
Reports of satanic activity at the cult or witch house were a frequent and key aspect of the legend. The cult house provided a specific location on the long road that legend trippers could travel to, assuming they could find it. Some of the accounts described it as a slightly creepy but otherwise normal house. Others described it as the crumbling ruins of some former house or park structure. Because of the variations in descriptions, it has often been difficult for legend trippers to locate the house.
The “well” where human sacrifices allegedly occurred above Blue Mist Road. Courtesy of Justina White.
“Satanic” graffiti on Blue Mist Road. Courtesy of Justina White.
One well-known marker on the road has added to the confusion. A lone mailbox, just before the metal barrier marking the end of the maintained portion of the road, has been linked to the site. Legend trippers have expected to at least find a foundation in the small cleared area near the box, but there is no sign of a structure there. Actually, the mailbox is across from the long driveway that connects to the road and is the box for that property. It is currently in use, so please do not touch it. (Remember, tampering with the mail is a federal offense.)
The most popular cult house location is a set of ruins that lies just off the road and up a hill on the park side. There is a short, earth-covered bridge that crosses Irwin Run and connects to the road. This path leads to a long overgrown and crumbling road/driveway up the hill to a set of ruins that sit atop a large stone wall above a hollow. The structure is now almost entirely collapsed. Nearby are other ruins, including concrete slabs and circular, stone-lined holes that resemble wells.
Kurt Wilson, who grew up in Ross Township near the park, heard stories about the cult in high school. He related the following story that he was told about the cult house:
As a teenager in the late ’80s, a friend of mine wandered down Blue Mist Road one evening because he had heard rumors about strange things going on there. A small distance off the road, he spotted a small ramshackle stone structure/old cottage that had a firelight coming from within it. He wandered over to get a closer look and spotted several robed figures sitting around a fire. They surrounded a circle of lit candles and appeared to be conducting some sort of ceremony. Startled by what he was witnessing, he stepped back. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Standing inches away was one of the figures, now looming over him. “Don’t ever come back here again,” he said. Not looking back, he quickly retreated, retracing his path to the road, never to return.
A similar story was passed to the authors almost twenty years ago by an acquaintance. It involved an incident that allegedly happened in 1990. Three young men (who were underage) had managed to get themselves a case of beer and were looking for a place to drink it. They moved or drove around the sawhorse blocking the road and drove back as far as they could go, before proceeding farther on foot. Supposedly, they stopped in the woods not far from an old house that they thought was vacant. After a few minutes, they saw what looked like candles inside and shadowy figures moving around. On a dare, one of the young men went up to the door and knocked. It immediately opened, and inside stood a large bearded man in black robes. In a gruff voice, he told them that “if they left now and kept their mouths shut he would pretend that this had never happened.” The frightened young men left immediately.
The cult house ruins from a distance. It was said to be the site of dark rituals and sacrifices. Courtesy of Justina White.
The collapsed structure known as the cult house or witch house above Blue Mist Road. Courtesy of Justina White.
The rumors of satanic cults and witches using the road began to trail off in the mid- to late 1990s. Around that time, though, some truly odd legends attached themselves to Blue Mist Road. An unusual one claimed that there were the remains of a midget village nearby. It was said to be scaled to the appropriate size and inhabited by former circus and freak show performers. Another insisted that a creature that was half-man and half-deer lived in the woods near the road and its tracks could sometimes be found. These legends did not spread widely and never gained much traction. Gradually, throughout the 2000s, the focus of the legends was again shifted toward the ghosts.
Since the mid-2000s, Blue Mist Road has become a regular stop for ghost hunters and paranormal investigators of varying levels of seriousness and experience. The accessibility of the location is one of its draws. Though many of these paranormal investigators have dismissed the road’s supernatural tales as urban legends, some have claimed to have had real encounters with ghosts or spirits there. Unexplained voices have been captured on tape. Strange images have appeared on film, sometimes emerging out of the mist. Whether these happenings are supernatural or something else, they leave the door open for belief. And the
road still regularly attracts legend trippers who are only there for the possible thrill of encountering the supernatural.
One of the standing walls in the ruins of the alleged cult house. Courtesy of Justina White.
More ruins near the cult house. Courtesy of Justina White.
With so many different supernatural stories attached to it, one might think that Blue Mist Road could be one of the most haunted places in America. Certainly, many of its legends are disturbing. But are any of these stories supported by the historical record? Is there any evidence for the fantastic claims that the stories make? Were there really fatal accidents, lynchings, cult sacrifices and other murders on the road that caused it to become haunted? If some or all of the stories are not based on facts, why have so many of them been widely repeated and believed over the years? There must be something behind them. To attempt to find the truth about Blue Mist Road, we must scrutinize each individual legend and try to make sense of the little information that we have.
We can start with what seems to be the earliest legend—that of the tragic car accident. The idea that the deceased family’s ghosts will push or move your car when it is in neutral is, as you may already know, a variation of a common urban legend and legend trip ritual. There are probably a dozen similar accounts throughout Pennsylvania and well over one hundred from around the United States. Such stories frequently include reports of the ghosts leaving handprints on the vehicle as proof of the supernatural experience. Sometimes these prints appear even if the car is not in neutral or moving in any way.
