During the summer of 1969, when i was 18, i visited block island, and decided to camp out atop the mohegan bluffs on the south shore. i found an abandoned weather-beaten wooden lean-to shaped like a boy scoutâ€™s tent, sunken into one of the bluffs, about halfway up the slope, or just a little more. (i have always called it a â€œlean-to,â€� but strictly speaking, it was a bit different in that the two narrower sides were open and the roof came to a peak in the middle.) it was nine or ten feet long and maybe five feet high at the peak. the post facing the slope in back had a lot of strange writing on it in a language i didnâ€™t recognizeâ€”some sort of far eastern script. i remember that the letters were well formed, the work of a skilled hand.
after awhile the tide came in, and along with the growing darkness, a thick fog. that night i heard all sorts of strange sounds, which i attributed to fatigue, nervousness, and the noise of the sea and wind. at first i thought i heard voices on the shore below ï€ but there was no sign of any human visitor. â€œmy ears are playing tricks on me,â€� i thought. after awhile, it seemed as if several people were speaking a few feet away, near the farther end of the lean-to. yet their words were not quite recognizable; it was as if they were speaking in an adjacent dimension. this too i chalked up to fatigue and an overactive imagination.
determined to still my childish anxieties, i started to read jack kerouacâ€™s â€œdesolation angels,â€� in which the author describes his months as a forest ranger in the pacific northwest, and how he had conjured up all sorts of similar fears living alone in the woods. then, just as i was calming down, there was a loud crash against the front wall of the leant-to, the side that faced the sea, as if it had been struck by a rock. this was no figment of my imagination!
in terror, i ran outside, and called out. but there was no reply. i wanted to examine the wall of the lean-to, but could hardly see a thing in the dark. the wind was blowing and the tides were making a lot of noise at the shore below. i quickly scrambled up the steep clay incline, using both my hands and feet. the fog was so thick that could hardly see, but i dared not stop.
as i got over the crest, i sensed a presence over my headâ€”but i didnâ€™t look up, just kept running into the miasma across the bed of rubbery green stuff that grew profusely atop the bluffs. a moment later i found myself encircled in a wide ring of light, despite the fog. it was as if a huge floodlight had been focused on me from above as i ran, although this seemed to be physically impossible. then on the upper periphery of my vision, i saw what i imagined was a giant bird perhaps the size of a small plane silently gliding over my head, seeming to obliterate the light as it flew by. (this eclipse of the light i canâ€™t explain, either. in the mufon checklist, i identified the craft as a boomerang shape, but iâ€™m really not sure what shape it was. i couldn't accurately estimate the size of the craft either, but did my best on the checklist.) eventually i reached the paved road that led back to town. a few minutes later, a car came by. i stepped out of the shrubbery, put out my thumb, and it stopped. two guys in their twenties, year-round block islanders, gave me a ride to town. on the way, they asked me what i had been doing near black rock point at night. when i told them what had just occurred, they were astonished. â€œdidnâ€™t you notice that all of the houses out there are empty? everyone knowsâ€”thatâ€™s the most haunted part of the island! nobody goes out there after dark!Â€�
because of this, for decades i believed that the entire episode was some sort of poltergeist phenomenon or a ghost story. but when many decades later, i told the tale to my grandson, he pronounced it a ufo experience, and iâ€™m now inclined toward that theory.
Filed under: Alien Sightings