By Zoe Bonerbo, Conservation Education Intern
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary
Very few people get to experience the Mountain at night. Trekking through the rocky understory in near pitch black was one of the coolest experiences I had while interning at Hawk Mountain. I had never before experienced the outdoors like I did that night.
I was born and raised in New York City—the furthest you could get from the rugged outdoors of the mountain. Nonetheless, I grew up loving the outdoors and was fascinated by animals and nature. When the opportunity arose to help organize an exclusive night hiking event, I jumped on it.
The special guest we arranged to come speak before the hike was Charles Adams, author of Ghost Stories of Berks County. He spoke about the paranormal activity and “spirals of energy” that exist on Mountain. It was a fantastic way for me to learn about the history of the place that I called home for three months. That night, as stories were being divulged, it started drizzling right above our group of guests in the Laurelwood Niche, but nowhere else on the Mountain. On all four sides, you could see the lining of where the raincloud stopped and the civil twilight sky stretched beyond. Intriguingly, the rain only lasted as long as the stories did. Once the hike started, the clouds broke way to stars.
At night, your senses come to life. Madi, a former Hawk Mountain education intern, challenged us to focus on our senses other than sight to help guide us on the walk up to North Lookout. While headlamps were allowed, guests only used them on a red light setting to help enhance night vision. However, since we were short one headlamp, I gave mine to one of the other hikers, and that’s when the adventure really began. The trails I thought I knew well became a puzzle with no light. I had never been challenged in this way before. Climbing and scrambling over rocks in the pitch black had my blood rushing. I found myself having to rely primarily on my sense of touch, feeling out the next step I would take, steadying myself on the rocks and trees beside me, and shifting my center of gravity to retain my balance.
The adrenaline of the hike was calmed when we reached the lookouts. With so little light pollution and our eyes well-adjusted to the darkness, we could see hundreds of stars dotting the sky. Everyone remained quiet, taking in the stillness of the night. We didn’t arrive back to the parking lot until past 11pm. By 9am the next morning, I was back up the Mountain leading a school group up to the Lookout.
A few weeks after the excitement, I noticed a quote sitting on my supervisor's desk, “And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” After spending three months on the Mountain, I don’t think John Muir couldn’t have said it any better.