The nearly-hidden start of the trail

It was prime time to go hiking.  By closely monitoring the large spider living in the corner of our front window, I could tell that my arachnid archenemies would be shivering, if not dead on the ground, due the recent arrival of cooler weather.

Free to enjoy the great outdoors without the fear of cardiac arrest resulting from coming nose to nose with a large woodland spider, I was ready to hit the trail.  Under a cloudless blue sky and 30-degree temperatures on Friday the 13th, I headed south to Hoosier National Forest.

My primary goal of the day was to climb a place I have always wanted to visit: Browning Hill, sometimes known as Browning Mountain.  Not only is the hill one of the highest points in the rugged area east of Monroe Reservoir, it also offers a little bit of mystery.

As I was researching my hike, I learned that the west end of flat-topped hill has been called “Indiana’s Stonehenge” due to a curious circle of stones that various people claim to be connected with Native American rituals or UFO activity.

Former site of Elkinsville

The first problem is even reaching the trailhead.  From the picturesque crossroads of Story, Indiana, the dead-end Elkinsville road winds through beautiful valleys and ridge-top forest to the site of Elkinsville.  Judging by the well-maintained monument along the road, some people haven’t yet forgiven the U.S. Government for moving families out of the valley during construction of Monroe Reservoir…

Just past Elkinsville, the road tees into two more dead-end gravel roads.  Turning left, I began looking for the trailhead immediately after the first house on the road as directed by an old guidebook.  Driving back and forth several times, I couldn’t find the trail until finally parking in the road to check the area on foot.  Eventually I spied a brown fiberglass marker just inside the woods on what I though was a deer trail.  This was the trailhead.

Unmarked trail to top of Browning Hill

Parking proved a problem on the narrow road.  I eventually pulled off down the road at a relatively wide spot and headed up the trail.

Though the area is part of the National Forest, it was obvious that the only trail maintenance is performed by boots of occasional hikers.  The trail up is approximately two-thirds of a mile and follows an old sunken road but I found the actual trail treadway is often difficult to follow.  Several times I lost the path.

Regardless of whether I was actually on the trail or not, it was fairly easy to see the course and I only had a moment or two of confusion at the lower elevations.  Once you are halfway up, the steepness of the surrounding terrain makes the route obvious.

Indiana's Stonehenge

After a 25-minute hike I reached the flat summit and immediately realized that views from the area are indeed spectacular.  To my slight consternation, I couldn’t see anything due to the amount of foliage still on the trees but what little could be seen was impressive.  I have already planned a return trip for winter or early spring when the trees are bare.

Once on top, the trail is easy to follow and there was evidence of horse riders.  Ambling along for 10 minutes, I finally found the mystery spot on the western-most edge of the summit.  I grounded my pack and looked around the rectangle of stones.

The area is composed of large square blocks of a light-colored stone that contrasts the sandstone at lower elevations.  There are two long sides surrounding the open center with a large stone at the “head” that some claim would serve as alter for ceremonies held inside the site.

Personally, I wasn’t impressed.  The stones do appear to be arranged by a force other than random chance but the job wasn’t very good.  All of the stones are slanting and none would seem especially comfortable for sitting.  I snapped some photos, ate some jerky and shivered in the strong cold wind that blasted the site.

Here lies....

As I leaving, I happened to look down.  On one rock, among all the other stupid and pointless graffiti, there was another barely noticeable etching.  A tendril of light coming through the swaying treetops caught the writing just perfectly and I read it.

It said, “Here lies John Baurle, Born 7/31/47, Died 9/14/52.”  I shivered again, this time not necessarily because of the cold.

None of my research mentioned this inscription or Master Baurle.  Moving aside to indulge a personal phobia against standing upon a grave, I reconsidered my earlier conclusions.

Was this indeed a rough-scrabble gravesite for young John?  Or was it meant as a memorial?  There is also the thought that maybe Baurle died or was killed nearby.  With more questions than answers, I began to retrace my steps.

I shivered one more time for good measure.

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