A blog where I will be posting information about a documentary shooting this Summer about Bara-Hack. The documentary will explore the history of the former village in Pomfret, CT, as well as the purported paranormal events that people have experienced there. Expect photos, documentation, and stories about my own personal experiences growing up just outside of the forest where the remains of the village exist.
Bara-Hack Visit July 2017 (Experience and pictures)
I was able to make it out to Bara-Hack a few weeks ago.
It was a hot day in mid-July, just after the Gypsy Moth caterpillars had hatched from their cocoons. The air was filled with them; little moths flitting around, the color of chestnuts. They did not bother me. What bothered me were the numerous horseflies that swarmed me as I got just a few yards into the woods. Despite the heat, I had to navigate the overgrown trail with my hood pulled tight over my head to keep them out of my hair and face.
On this particular trip, I had two goals: to record as much B-roll footage as possible, and to find the cemetery. I had only visited the cemetery once before, when I was around nine or ten, and my only points of reference for its location were the vague directions my brother had given me the previous year.
This visit was much like my previous trips out to the settlement. The path was lined with Mountain Laurel, no longer in bloom but still beautiful with branches that twisted up from the ground.
It was a bright and sunny day and, as far as I went out, I could still hear the sounds of the road and people in the distance. I wonder if the source of the voices people hear at Bara-Hack might simply be the sounds neighbors on the outskirts of the woods.
As I traveled deeper into the forest, I became aware of something I had never noticed on my previous visits. As you get closer to the settlement, there is a point where the feeling of the place changes entirely. The trees are different: they are taller and straighter and absolutely older. The sounds of the forest grow quieter. As I recall it in my mind, everything looked more red and dark and ancient. I have noticed the changes in the trees before. That is how I have made certain I was going in the right direction in the past. What I never noticed, possibly because I have always made the trip with friends or relatives to accompany me, was how entirely different the forest felt. In books and articles on the lost village, people have discussed feeling a weight, or a sense of sadness surrounding the village. What I experienced was a feeling of peace. The world became quiet.
As I trudged over the top of an incline, I found the village as it has always been. The home of Obadiah Higginbotham was filled with dead leaves, and there were a few beer and soda cans left around the property, one of them within what I believe was once a well. I find it disturbing how disrespectful people can be towards a place of historical significance when there is nobody around to stop them. My next time out, I will make a point to bring a plastic bag to clean up after them.
In the Summer months, the familiar frowning face carved into a rock a few feet away from the house was completely obscured by moss and lichen.
I also found what may have been the tree where the settlers purportedly saw the spirit of an infant nestled into a hole. This is only speculation on my part. I do not know enough about trees to know if it would still look anything like it did back when the settlers saw it, or even if it would still be alive. This tree still looked pretty spooky, though.
I continued on the path past the settlement to see if there was anything beyond it that I could have missed before. There may be more past where I made it, but all I managed to find were some slugs and a fox cave.
On the way back, though, something strange happened.
I was absently fiddling with my camera, and I looked up for a moment to see what I thought was a person, standing beyond the settlement near a stone wall. I looked back at my camera for just a moment before it hit me that I had come out to the woods alone. It was very unlikely that anyone else was out there. When I looked back up, there was nobody there. I took a few pictures of the spot, but it seems that whatever I saw had already left.
At this point, I attempted to see if any spirits would communicate with me using the EMF detector. I introduced myself and explained that they could communicate with me by touching the little box and making the lights turn on. I also told them that I was a filmmaker, which meant that I had a device that could take instant portraits, and that I used those portraits to tell stories. Trying to explain filmmaking to people from the 1700s is weird.
Unsurprisingly, the EMF detector remained flat the entire time. Some would probably say that the spirits did not have enough energy to draw from to make it light up. I honestly do not really trust the validity of EMF detectors as a tool for contacting spirits, and if anything, I think the haunting of Bara-Hack is most likely residual. Nonetheless, it was a fun exercise and, in a way, helped me to feel more connected with the people who lived in Bara-Hack... even if they were unable or unwilling to connect with me.
Finally, I took the path that I thought lead to the cemetery. I had no idea how long it might take to get there, or even if I was on the correct path. After walking for quite some time, I was getting ready to turn back. But then, from behind one of the many stone walls, I noticed a tombstone.
The headstones are in varying states of disrepair. Some, like that of Dorcas Higginbotham, the wife of Obadiah, were still very clear to read, despite needing to be held up between two large rocks. Directly behind her grave, you can see another tombstone that was not so fortunate. It has broken completely in half.
In all the time I spent alone at Bara-Hack, I never felt uneasy or afraid, even when I saw what may have been a spirit of one of the people who lived there. The forest is calm and peaceful. My biggest fear was not of the ghosts or of the gremlin-like creatures that are said to hang in the trees, but of the horseflies and ticks that I found on my person when I got out of the woods. (Three on the outside of my clothing, one on my leg.)
I wonder if I will still feel the same when we stay overnight.
From what I have found, the village of Bara-Hack was founded by Obadiah Higginbotham and Jonathan Randall in around 1790. Randall was involved in Rhode Island politics and Higginbotham was a deserter from the British army. In 1790, both families relocated to Pomfret, Connecticut from Cranston, Rhode Island.
They started a business manufacturing spinning wheels for sale to neighboring communities. The deaths of Bara-Hack’s founding families and economic hardships resulted in the village being abandoned some time around the Civil War.
Even when the village was founded, there were rumors of paranormal happenings. Some people in the village claimed that they saw a ghost baby that could be seen reclining in a tree, thought to be a stillborn infant of the Higginbotham family.
Another interesting detail I found is regarding the stone carvings around the village. I always assumed that they were carved by people living in the village, but this quote from an article by Andri Kyrychok suggests that they may have been carved by Native Americans much further back than Bara-Hack’s history as a Welsh settlement:
“Such stone carvings are called petroglyphs by archeologists. Many of these stone carvings have been found out west in Indian territory, and are thought to have been carved thousands of years ago. Others were found to be of more recent Indian history of 200 to 300 years ago. The age of a carved stone is it’s biggest mystery. Some carvings are signify sacred sights, and tributes to great spirits of long ago. Other carvings have been found near burial sights, and as tributes to ancient leaders. Others may simply be directional markers. ”
This is something I am definitely going to explore when looking into the history of the area.
Just about thirty minutes into the forest behind my childhood home, there are the remains of an old village called Bara-Hack, which was established around 1780. I used to visit it often: a large ditch dug several feet deep with a pile of rocks in the center that used to be a chimney, a cemetery with names still legible through the moss, and a frowning face carved into a boulder at the edge of the settlement. Many people, including members of my family, have seen shadows hanging in the trees, heard the sounds of people bustling about, and seen disembodied faces around the empty village.
The history of this place has always fascinated me because of how it impacted the landscape of my own life growing up in Connecticut, and because of the mysteries surrounding the circumstances of those who once lived there.
I have decided to explore the experiences people have had in Bara-Hack and how they might be related to the history of the location through a documentary that I will be shooting this Summer with the help of my family and peers. The documentary will include interviews with historians, stories from people who have had paranormal experiences, and extensive documentation of the location, among other explorations. This blog is where I will be posting information about that process and what I learn along the way.
