Eerie walk

I soon reach another locked gate. It gives an unnerving twang as my boot clips the cold steel chain.

Pine forests are renowned for being biodiversity deserts and at night that is particularly the case. Every direction appears devoid of life, just tall darkened tree trunks lined up like thousands of giant tombstones. Suddenly, I hear a rustle behind me.

I quicken my pace to a sort of panicked shuffle – you know that movement halfway between a walk and a run that you instinctively break into when you’re worried someone is following you.

I stumble on a pine cone. I pick it up – perhaps I can throw it in self-defence.

The rustle behind is getting closer.

Am I being followed? Is it a ghost? My heartbeat races.

Thankfully it’s neither. I swing around, pine cone at the ready, to see the back end of a sick-looking fox as it scurries under the wreck of an abandoned car.

Phew! My reduced state of anxiety doesn’t last long. I continue up the track and into a breeze which begins to wail a mournful tune through the thousands of pine needles and around the corner, my torch illuminates an ominous sign – ‘‘Do not touch anything. It may explode and kill you!’’ I’ve taken a wrong turn and have reached the boundary of the adjacent military target area (the original access to the memorial).

So here I am, alone in a forest near midnight, with ghosts allegedly lurking in every shadow, a fox with mange stalking my every move and now I’ve got live ammo to deal with. Just great! To make matters worse, it suddenly dawns upon me the uncanny resemblance that a pine cone bears to a hand grenade, especially in near darkness. Not in the mood for taking risks, I carefully place the cone on the ground.

Up one last hill and I finally reach the memorial. You’d think it’d be a relief, but instead I’m overcome with a wave of sadness for the people who tragically lost their lives at this spot on August 13, 1940. I sit on a stump to contemplate what a terrible sight must have greeted the first rescue crews to reach the burning wreckage. There’s an anecdote of a fireman kicking what he thought was a burning log out of the way only to discover that it was part of a body.

My melancholic contemplation is broken by the noise of an aeroplane. It sounds quite close. It couldn’t be, could it? Then I realise it must be a delayed flight coming in to land (thankfully) safely at Canberra Airport. With my clothes wet from a nervous sweat and the temperature struggling to stay above freezing I reach for my camera to take a photo of the memorial. Some people get little orbs of light in their photos here which paranormal aficionados suggest is evidence of ghostly energy.

No orbs for me –my camera’s batteries have inexplicably drained (which apparently is not an uncommon occurrence here). I was sure I’d charged the camera fully before leaving home.

With nothing more to gain, I jog back to Fairbairn Avenue, careful to dodge every pine cone along the way. Still needing photos of the memorial for my story, I return the next day in daylight. By day the walk seems harmless, just an uneventful stroll through an ordinary pine forest. Rather than spooks emerging from the darkness, the only thing I need to be wary of are mountain bike riders hurtling at breakneck speed around corners. It’s amazing the effect that a cloak of darkness can have on you.

Have you had an experience at the Air Disaster Memorial? If so, I’d love to hear from you.

FACT FILE

The Air Disaster Memorial Walk is a 2.8km return walk on forest roads from the entrance gate to Fairbairn Pines on Fairbairn Avenue.

Warning: Even if the gate is unlocked, park at the gate and walk in to avoid your vehicle accidentally being locked in.

If you are not familiar with the area, call Canberra Connect for directions or more information on the walk: 13 22 81.

Some subsequent reader correspondence:

This column’s recent expose on the Air Disaster Memorial (ADM) has promoted a large amount of correspondence, particularly regarding on the site’s spooky nature.

A Narrabundah reader recently attempted his own nocturnal visit, and like me, left more than a little unnerved. Here is his chilling account.

“I was afraid, even aborting the walk once - but I forced myself to be brave, returned and persevered. Unfortunately, the torch I had was a feeble, wind-up model and cast little light.

The further out I went, the more alone I felt. Though it was not dread, it was a distinct feeling of unease as I headed down to the opening in the forest at the site of the ADM. I could hear scuttling from underneath the trees. But I felt, that little animals made the noise. The memorial itself embodied sadness, the inscription and the names discerned by the feeble light of my torch. I was afraid, but it was a fear unrelated to the crash - I imagined that something awful and malevolent lurked here - but it was not the spirits of the victims. I quickly left, having proved my courage to myself.

On leaving I could see and hear kangaroos jumping ahead and behind me. I was glad to encounter them, as their presence meant that loose dogs were unlikely. I regained the car and returned to my home - but the memory of that sinister place lingers with me still.”

Meanwhile Simon Evans of Isabella Plains claims he experienced phantom footsteps while recently being dared to visit the haunted site with a couple of friends.

“At some point we all became aware of occasional noises coming from scrub it was the sound of someone walking through the bush i.e. footsteps, breaking twigs and people talking. It was not clear where the sound was coming from; if we were quiet and tried to listen the noises would stop. When we started talking again the noises would come back, this went on until we left,” recalls Mr Evans.

Inexplicably, just as Mr Evans and his friends jumped into the relative safety of their car, “something hit the bonnet.”

“No one saw what it was, but there was a 20 cent sized dent left on the bonnet,” says Mr Evans who high tailed it out of the forest as fast as he could.