Victoria's Pass

Every year, the second weekend of October marks our adventurous trip up the Tennessee Smokies. Nestled just 30 feet from Lake Victoria Pass, the cabins in the mountains of West Virginia has been our go to family destination for the past ten years. My wife, Equinda, and the kids consider all the amenities and scenic sites to be just a small slice of heaven and look forward to the week-long excursion; however, I’ve grown complacent of the trip and feel a bit defeated that my vacation idea was shot down by the family committee. Nevertheless, the truck is packed, the gps is set, and I've taken my position behind the cockpit. The venture starts as planned for the most part, you know, stopping every five minutes to let the kids go to the restroom, or playing the usual game of follow the leader in every convenience store on I-75. What do they call it; “Deja vu” every action of the trip seems routine and a replica of years past. I glance up at the upcoming sign and it reads, Lake Victoria Pass 75 miles, exit 1 mile. This is the part of the journey where I clinch up and put on my reading glasses. The next 75 miles is what I’ve nicknamed the Devil’s Pass. The terrain switches from a four lane US highway, to a 2 lane road wrapped around a serpentine of mountainous wooded forest covered with snow and cliff hangers. The time is now 4pm and I know I’ve only got about an hour of daylight ahead of me.

As I proceed up the mountains, the sunny skies are turning a purplish gray in color which signifies not only is darkness about to set, but precipitation is on the horizon. Out of nowhere, we hear the crack of thunder and someone has turned the faucet on full throttle. The rain is beating my windshield with tremendous force. My wiper blades can't keep up with the pirouetting of colossal drops. I pretend to be able to see through the downpour; however, my heart is about to beat out of my chest. I send a sign of reassurance to my wife and kids who are terrified in the back seat. As a licensed CDL holder, I thought I had experienced the worst weather known to man during my many stints of cross country driving. I slow my 8 passenger Suburban to a crawl, with my only reference to the pavement is the dotted white reflectors that separate the long twisted bend up Mt. Victoria. A lot of physical change has taken place since we made the same drive just a year ago. I, for one, would consider myself a city slicker; however, my wife loves to feel one with nature and somehow the kids are accustomed to the same survival lifestyle. “Slow down baby” my wife shouts from the passenger seat! Out of rage, my ego rants back a response, “I’m going 7 miles per hour, do you want me to get out in the rain and push the car up the mountain.” I could feel her fear, and now the kids are screaming, “I'm scared daddy”. To bring calm to the impending danger ahead, I reassured them by saying in a whisper, “Daddy, got this, ya’ll just sit back and relax”! That couldn’t be no farther than the truth. Truth was, I was shaking in my boots and near the point of near tears.

As we make our way up the mountainous terrain, the night has sunken and visibility it at 30% at best. The only reference point that signifies we are headed in the right direction is the dew in the atmosphere which signifies that Victoria Pass is near. According to an old folk tale, the man-made lake was built in 1874 as a way for the mountain toppers to send goods to people in the drought stricken valley below. Environmentalists from all over the world have come to Victoria’s Pass to study the odd deformities of the massive body of water. Most rivers and lakes flow from North to South in a perpendicular fashion; however, Victoria flowed in a vertical motion. “There goes Victoria Pass’, my young daughter shouted from the back seat. As I approached the windy bend, I saw the silhouette of the lake glistening in the half moon lit sky with a foggy hue hovering overhead. The few inhabitants of the mountain tell stories of mainland fishermen who ventured out over the large lake to cast their rod and have never been seen again. The stories seem a little redundant; however, who knows the truth behind the lake. For as long as I can remember, the local mountaineers would attempt almost any tactic to run away tourists. Nearly a year ago, one of the locals hid by the entrance of the long windy road leading to the lake dressed in a swamp man outfit to spook those seeking refuge for the weekend.

Finally, we pulled into the driveway of the three bedroom cabin. The children, filled with anticipation of the weekend, moved haltingly to unload the truck. For some reason, the cabin we frequent every year appears as it has aged by ten years. I made my way to the door to retrieve the envelope which through prior agreement was to be left under the mat by the cabin owner. As I went to lift the burlap woven mat, there was an eerie cold mist that swept across me, sending chills down my spine. I retrieved the envelope and quickly relinquished the filthy foot wipe which weighed a ton. Through the envelope, I felt the movement of keys and the standard leasing agreement. I tore open the parcel and to my surprise, the envelope contained no agreement; however, there was a note that read, “Leave at once, stay at your own risk”. To ensure I wasn’t hallucinating, I read the letter again and stuffed it back in the envelope. My wife and children are now directly behind me with luggage in tow. “Is everything ok, baby,” my wife said in the most concerning voice. “Yes dear”, I replied while reaching in the envelope for the keys. I opened the door and the family followed in to claim their room for the night. As standard, I instructed the family to wait in the living room until I made the customary check of the premises. Something just doesn't feel right, I thought as I made my way through the upstairs hallway. With every step I took, I felt the presence of another person or stranger staring at me. I turned in a 360’ degree turn with my flashlight on high beam to hopefully catch the invisible force; however, there was no one there. “The coast is clear” I yelled to the family below to signify everything is OK. I can hear the family below unpacking and carrying on about the plans for tomorrow. I continue my surveillance of the grounds from the second story window overlooking lake Victoria Pass.

The lake almost appears to be frozen over with an almost ghost-like mist dancing on top of its shallow waters. The branches from the foliage surrounding the bank are draped over the ledge giving off a silhouette of the creepy crawlies on the surface. I looked towards the opposite end and there staring at me was what appeared to be two fluorescent green eyes. “Could this be my imagination”, I pondered as I wiped my lens to gain some sense of reality from what I was seeing. It was accurate and confirmed, Lake Victoria Pass was alive and I was its subject. I ran down the short flight of stairs and slid into the sharp stones dressing the fireplace. “Grab our things, we're getting the hell out of here”, I screamed in horror. That was the last time I’ve ever mentioned the lake of horror.