Haunted October- The Redheaded Hitchhiker of Rt 44

Posted on October 5, 2026October 2, 2026 by Dusty Roads | No Comments

A lone figure stands in the middle of a dark, foggy road at night, illuminated by a harsh overhead light while a parked car sits nearby, its headlights reflecting off the wet pavement to create an eerie, suspenseful atmosphere.

Good Morning, Taunton

Let me tell you a cautionary tale of hauntings and spooks — one that has lingered along our back roads for decades, whispered between towns, repeated by locals, and never quite explained.

A Rural Road with a Reputation

A long, wet road stretches into dense fog, flanked by tall dark trees on both sides, with the centerline reflecting faint light and visibility fading into a moody, mysterious haze. If you’re from the area, you already know that Taunton and Rehoboth sit side‑by‑side, connected by the long, rural stretch of U.S. Route 44. Once you leave the glow of Taunton behind, the darkness settles in quickly. The trees crowd close, the houses disappear, and the road becomes the kind of place where you can drive for miles without seeing another car. Some might even call it deserted.

Providence is the nearest city, and after a full day of shopping and errands, it had gotten late. I was heading home, tired, ready to call it a night. My radio was playing softly — just enough sound to keep the quiet from feeling too heavy. It must have been after 10 p.m. The sky was moonless, the woods were deep, and there wasn’t a single streetlight on that stretch of 44.

A Figure on the Shoulder

For reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt uneasy. Not frightened — just aware. I kept my eyes on the edges of the road, watching for deer. They’re known to leap out from the woods without warning, and I’ve had more than one close call along that route.

But then I saw something ahead.

A figure. Standing on the shoulder. A man — or at least the shape of one. A lone figure in a long coat stands on a dark rural road at night, facing an approaching vehicle whose bright headlights illuminate the wet pavement, creating a tense, mysterious atmosphere.

A hitchhiker. At this hour?

I slowed down, instinctively, thinking maybe he needed help. As my headlights swept across him, I saw his hair — unnaturally red, almost glowing in the darkness. It didn’t look right. It didn’t look real.

And then he was gone.

Just gone. One moment there, the next… nothing but empty road.

The Voice in the Static

I pulled forward, heart thudding, trying to make sense of what I’d seen. That’s when the radio cut out. The music vanished, replaced by static — sharp, loud, crackling through the speakers. Beneath it, a distorted voice began to form. My name. Spoken slowly. Drawn out. Wrong.

“Stop the car,” it said.

But I knew — deep down, in a way you don’t question — that if I stopped, I would never make it home.

I had just encountered the Redheaded Hitchhiker of Route 44.

So if you ever find yourself driving between Taunton and Rehoboth late at night… don’t pick up any hitchhikers.

Haunted October: Join Me in the Bennington Triangle

Posted on October 3, 2026October 1, 2026 by Dusty Roads | No Comments

A misty Vermont forest with dense evergreens and low‑lying fog drifting through the trees, with a shadowed mountain rising in the background.

🎃 Join me — if you dare — on a nature hike deep in the forests of Vermont.

There’s a stretch of wilderness in the southwestern corner of the state where the trees grow close, the air hangs still, and the quiet feels heavier than it should. Hikers talk about a strange hush that settles over the land — a silence that doesn’t sound natural, a stillness that makes you stop walking and listen without knowing why.

This is Glastenbury Mountain, the heart of what people now call the Bennington Triangle.

🌲 A Campfire in the Dark

A glowing campfire burning on a rocky riverbank at dusk, with flames reflecting off the stones and silhouetted trees in the background. Picture our campfire: a bright circle of light in the darkness, twigs snapping as they burn. Someone from our group steps away — just for a moment. Maybe to grab something from the tent or pick up a sweater. Nights get cold in these woods.

But they never return.

Vanished. Gone in the blink of an eye.

It sounds impossible… until you learn that five people have walked into these woods and never come back out. Only one was ever found — and her remains had been lying out there for months before surfacing.

👣 The Vanishings

Middie Rivers — 1945

An experienced woodsman leading a hunting party along a familiar trail. He walked a short distance ahead to scout the path, rounded a curve, and simply never returned.

Search teams combed the area for days. No footprints.or broken brush. No sign of an animal attack. Nothing. It was as if the forest opened up and took him.

One moment he was there. The next, he wasn’t.

Paula Welden — 1946

A 19‑year‑old college student who went for a hike on the Long Trail. She was seen heading toward the woods… and then never again. Despite weeks of searching, no trace was ever found.

James Tedford — 1949

A veteran traveling by bus through the area. Passengers saw him sitting in his seat as the bus approached Bennington — but when it arrived, he was gone. His belongings were still there. His seat was undisturbed. He had vanished from a moving bus.

Paul Jepson — 1950

Only eight years old. His mother left him in the family truck for about half an hour. When she returned, Paul was gone. Bloodhounds tracked his scent to a nearby road, where it simply ended. He was never found.

Frieda Langer — 1950

An experienced hiker and the only one ever recovered. She slipped into a brook and went to change her clothes. She never came back. Months later her body was discovered — but no cause of death could be determined.

Five disappearances. Five unsolved cases. One small region.

🌫️ A Mountain the Abenaki Would Not Enter

The Abenaki knew better than to trust Glastenbury. Hunting parties steered clear of its woods, no villages ever took root on its slopes, and travelers passed through without stopping. In their stories, the mountain was a place that swallowed people whole.

🎃 Why the Bennington Triangle Haunts Us

The Bennington Triangle is spooky not because of ghosts, but because of the feeling it gives you. It’s the kind of place where the forest seems to close in, where the trail feels longer than it should, and where the silence makes you wonder what’s listening.

It’s New England at its most mysterious.

So I ask you again…

Will you join me in the Bennington Triangle?

A nighttime campfire burning inside a ring of rocks, with two empty yellow camping chairs facing the flames and dark trees silhouetted in the background.

Haunted October: Rockafellas Restaurant, Salem, Massachusetts

Posted on October 1, 2026September 30, 2026 by Dusty Roads | No Comments

A historic brick building in Salem with a large skeleton decoration mounted above the entrance, signage reading “Daniel Low & Co.” and “Rockafellas,” and additional Halloween skeletons near the upper windows.

🎃 Welcome to Haunted October

Good evening… and welcome.

Outside, October wind drifts through Salem’s narrow streets, brushing past brick façades and stirring the last leaves on the Common. Inside this handsome Derby Square building, warm light pools across polished wood, and conversation hums softly. Yet beneath that modern glow lies a history that never quite settles.

Tonight, we step into Rockafellas, a contemporary restaurant housed within a structure whose past stretches back two centuries — and whose roots reach even deeper.

🏛️ A Meetinghouse With Shadows Behind It

A group of visitors standing near the historic Witch House in Salem, a dark wooden 17th‑century structure with steep gables, set beside a large Gothic stone building with arched windows and battlements Long before diners filled these rooms, the site belonged to Salem’s First Church, a congregation whose earlier meetinghouses stood witness to the uneasy tensions of 1692. Within that lineage, John and Elizabeth Proctor were questioned during the Salem Witch Trials, their futures hanging by a thread as fear swept through the town.

The building standing today rose in 1826, later reshaped in Victorian Gothic style. Though its architecture changed, the memory of those earlier meetinghouses clings to the space like a faint, persistent echo. Visitors often describe a subtle shift in the air — a quiet reminder that this corner of Salem has seen more than its share of troubled history.

👻 A Presence That Doesn’t Announce Itself

Rockafellas doesn’t lean into theatrics. Its décor is modern, its atmosphere lively, its energy warm. Diners seated at a Halloween‑decorated restaurant table surrounded by oversized spider webs, hanging spiders, and life‑size skeleton figures, including one dressed like Jack Skellington in a witch hat.

Even so, certain moments give guests pause: a sudden chill, a brief hush, the feeling that someone has paused nearby. Staff speak softly about the building’s “regulars,” the ones who never appear on the reservation list.

Among them is the Lady in Blue, glimpsed in an upstairs window after closing time — a figure who vanishes the moment anyone looks twice. Footsteps drift across the second floor when no one is there. A knock sounds against a wall with no door behind it. And stories linger about Daniel Low, the jeweler who died within these walls and, some say, still keeps watch.

These aren’t dramatic hauntings. They’re whispers. Echoes. Small reminders that history rarely stays quiet in Salem.

🕯️ Where Past and Present Share the Same Room

Rockafellas may not resemble a haunted house, but it carries the weight of a haunted place — shaped by centuries of worship, fear, tragedy, and transformation.

The witch trial lineage. The meetinghouse legacy. The quiet spirits said to linger. The Lady in Blue watching from above.

Together, they create an atmosphere that settles gently, like a familiar guest returning to a room they once knew well.

🎃 Welcome… to Haunted October

As candles flicker and the wind presses against the windows, remember: this is Salem. The past never wanders far. Sometimes it sits at the table beside you.

Welcome to Haunted October — and together, we’ll explore the myths, legends, hauntings, and mysteries of New England.

A glowing carved pumpkin with large eyes and a wide toothy grin, surrounded by other illuminated jack‑o’‑lanterns creating a warm, festive Halloween display.

Lake Monsters of the Adirondacks: My Family’s Monster‑Free Record

Posted on August 29, 2026August 22, 2026 by Dusty Roads | 2 Comments

Beautiful Lake George surrounded by lush green hills, framed by leafy branches in the foreground, with a small sailboat visible on the water under a clear sky.

Growing Up Between Two Monster Lakes

My family has spent a lot of time on the two Adirondack lakes most famous for monster sightings. My mother grew up in Ticonderoga, right between Lake George and Lake Champlain, and I spent my childhood on Lake George. We used to road‑trip to Vermont and often took the ferry across Lake Champlain. If Champ was going to make an appearance, we were giving him every opportunity.

He never did. My mother never saw him either. Not even a suspicious ripple.

Champ is the celebrity cryptid of the region — the Adirondack Nessie — and people have been reporting sightings since the 1800s. Meanwhile, my family crossed that lake so many times we practically deserved a loyalty punch card, and still: nothing. Not even a polite bubble.

Champ: The Famous Monster Who Never Showed Up

Champ gets all the attention. Books, documentaries, blurry photos, breathless eyewitness accounts — he’s the star of Lake Champlain. And yet, despite all those ferry crossings, neither my mother nor I ever saw anything that even hinted at a lake monster.

Plenty of waves. Plenty of logs. Zero monsters.

Georgie: The Lake George Monster We All Joked About

Lake George has a monster too, though it’s a much quieter legend. Growing up, we kids always joked about “Georgie,” the Lake George lake monster. I assumed Georgie was just the local version of Champ — a long‑necked creature lurking in the deep water, ready to pop up and terrify boaters.

I never knew Georgie had an actual origin story. Apparently most people don’t, because Georgie tends to get lumped in with Champ and Nessie as if he’s part of the same folklore family.

He isn’t.

The Wild, Forgotten Origin Story of Georgie

Georgie was a hoax — and a spectacular one.

Back in 1904, painter Harry Watrous built a ten‑foot lake monster out of a cedar log, complete with a skinny neck, big eyes, a wide mouth, and hemp‑rope whiskers. He created it to get revenge on a newspaper editor who had tricked him with a fake giant trout.

Watrous anchored his monster in Hague Bay and rigged it with a pulley system so he could make it rise dramatically out of the water whenever he felt like causing chaos.

And he did.

Panicked boaters, screaming passengers, parasol attacks — Georgie caused absolute mayhem. Watrous revived the monster again in 1934 just to “spoof the world” one more time. The original Georgie still exists and lives at the historical museum in Hague.

None of this made it into the version of Georgie I grew up with. To us, Georgie was just the Lake George monster — the one we joked about while swimming or boating, the one we pretended might be lurking under the dock. The prank faded, but the idea stuck.

My Family’s Real Lake Sightings (Everything Except Monsters)

And despite all that time on the lake, I never saw Georgie. My mother never saw Georgie. And my brother — who has spent more time on Lake George than anyone I know — has never seen Georgie.

This is impressive, because my brother has seen everything else.

He’s seen rattlesnakes swimming across Lake George. The lake’s had rabid beavers. He’s seen deer swimming across the lake like they’re training for a triathlon. He’s seen strange wakes, odd shadows, weird currents, and fog that makes the lake look like a horror movie set. There have even been water spouts!

Island Camping: Prime Monster Hours, Still No Monsters

My brother also camps out on the Lake George islands during the summer, which means he’s out there at night — prime monster hours. If Georgie were real, my brother would have had front‑row seats.

But no. Not a single monster sighting.

If Monsters Exist, They’re Avoiding Us

Between Champ and Georgie, the Adirondacks are supposedly home to two lake monsters. My family has spent generations swimming, boating, camping, ferrying, and occasionally dodging rabid beavers — and we’ve never seen one. Not even a hint.

If the monsters are out there, they’re clearly shy… or they’ve decided my family isn’t worth the trouble.

Mohican-Paradise-Bay-

RIP Dolly Parton

Posted on August 25, 2026August 25, 2026 by Dusty Roads

It is with a sad heart that we shre the news of Dolly Parton‘s passing at 80. Music icon, philanthopist, Dolly, you werre loved in life and will be much missed. Your beautiful music will continue to bring joy and pleasure for years to come. RIP June 19, 1946 – Aug 26, 2026

The Arounddustyroads team and family send heartfelt sympathy and love to all of Dollu’s family, friends and fans at this time of loss.

Category Archives: Legends