A Magical Mystery Tour: Part VI

[This is the seventh and final entry in a special series. Read the previous post, here.]

 

Mist turns to rain and we reach the Visitors Center at the Western Gateway Heritage State Park in North Adams, Mass., nearing the tail end of four p.m.—which turns out to be maddening because its exhibit on the infamous Hoosac Tunnel is absolutely fascinating.

 

No sarcasm here: it’s colorful, quirky, smartly designed, and totally un-boring. There’s even a simulated tunnel with old barrels seating, water-drip sounds effects, and ominous voiceover narration. I can’t rave enough: it’s a gem.

 

The guy at the desk is super-friendly and his eyes positively twinkle as he tells us about the railway passage, built in 1851-1876 to link the towns of North Adams and Florida, Mass., allowing crucial transport to cities on the Eastern seaboard. At one point, the Hoosac Route was the busiest rail line in all of New England, with 60 percent of all commerce transportation flowing through the Hoosac Tunnel. North Adams was a bustling hub of industry back then.

 

And the two million tons of rock excavated during to build the 4.75-mile-long passage? Extracted thanks to nitroglycerin, a volatile explosive cooked up by chemists. So volatile that 195 workmen died from unexpected blasts during construction. A few dozen more died after the project was completed—by falling down the central shaft or being struck by oncoming trains—making the Hoosac Tunnel, according to my guide, local mystery monger Joe Durwin, “surely the most thoroughly haunted location in all the Berkshires.”

 

So here’s my big fat disclaimer: going into the Hoosac Tunnel is considered trespassing, and therefore illegal. If you’re caught, you may be arrested or fined. Oh, and it’s really dangerous: you could be struck by an oncoming train or perhaps followed deep inside the hole by an unsavory character and bludgeoned to death. Your body might never be found! The place is supposedly haunted, too. Duh.

 

(Durwin brings up another chilling point, too: though there’s seemingly enough space to flatten one’s body against the wall in the case of oncoming headlights, the sheer gravity of a train speeding through such a narrow passage might pull one to his or her death. Think about it....)

 

The final verdict: So let’s just say that if I were to have ventured nearly a mile into the affectionately dubbed “Bloody Pit” after sundown on a drizzly October night with but one lantern to share with my colleague, I might describe such a journey as one of the most eerie and unnerving experiences of my life. IF.