HAMPDEN/SOMERS – Clouds scattered across the blue sky and the sun struggled to poke through as Reminder Publishing staff writer Stephanie Trombley and I drove up Scantic Road in Hampden. We chattered on about how gorgeous the homes are on this street with their sprawling horse pastures, well kept grounds and unique style. Stephanie had never been to the final Eerie Series location, primarily out of fear, due to its reputation in the area.

After all, Rock–A–Dundee Road is infamous.

Try Googling Rock-A-Dundee Road – several blogs and YouTube videos will pop up, all telling legends of the street.

For instance, hellsacres.blogspot.com is the first link that comes up on my Google feed with the title, “Hell’s Acres: Suburban Legend: The Haunting of Rock–A–Dundee Road.” The blog relates a story of the road that I grew up hearing, and it’s not for the faint of heart.

As legend has it; in July of 1967 two teenagers were kissing in a car on the side of Rock–A–Dundee Road. They attempted to start the vehicle, and it wouldn’t turn over. The boyfriend told the girlfriend that he would walk into town for help, and that she should stay in the car and should not get out under any circumstances. The girlfriend sat and waited and eventually began to hear a scratching sound on the roof, but believed it was a low hanging branch as they were parked under a tree.

The next morning, she woke up to a Hampden Police Officer knocking on the car window, and as he escorted her out of the car and to his cruiser, he told her to not look back at the car. She did, however, and saw her boyfriend hanging from the tree with his toes barely scratching the roof of the vehicle.

The blog relates that this is merely a “bona fide suburban legend,” yet it is the most popular tale I’ve heard of the street.

The blog continues, “When we [the author] were growing up, we heard the theory that some sort of mob operation – counterfeiting or bootlegging or something like that – had taken place at a house on Rock–A–Dundee Road, and that the perpetrators had spread the haunting rumor to keep people away.”

Over the years, more tales have been told of the street. One states that there was a “crazed older woman” who lived in the woods in the 1960’s. Supposedly, despite her passing, her spirit chases anyone who ventures down the road with an axe.

Finally, the last tale is that there is a rock–monument and gazebo at the end of the road in honor of a young boy who had passed away. All of this is true, however the tale spins that the child had been killed by a school bus, and if people stand in the gazebo, they can hear the faint sounds of his cries. The monument and gazebo do both exist, however we have omitted the name out of respect for his family and the deceased.

Taking a right off Scantic Road and onto Rock–A–Dundee, I pulled my car over on the street so Stephanie and I could get out and take photos. We surveyed the area, and I couldn’t help but notice how incredible the view was of the gazebo. It overlooks a large field with mountains in the distance, and the combination of the crisp air and colorful leaves was breathtaking.

We piled back in the car and began our trek down the street. It was around 4:15 p.m. on Oct. 24, the night of a full moon. Multiple times Stephanie and I agreed that if we hadn’t heard any of the street’s folklore, we wouldn’t be nervous.

As the street turned to a dirt road up a gradual hill, I noticed a person in the distance but I couldn’t quite make it out. Instantly I turned to Stephanie and asked, “Is that a person in the road?” She let out a wary, “I don’t know.”

As we slowed down and drove closer we were met with an older woman standing in the road. She wore a pale purple long skirt that just dusted the ground, a white, loose–fitting top and a light bonnet. She held onto a pink stroller, meant for a small child, however there was no child inside.

When we passed the woman, she slowly turned to face us and raised her hand in a polite, yet eerie wave.

We were sufficiently freaked out.

Motoring down the road, we continued to the Somers half, known as Rocky Dundee Road. Eventually, the road turned to Camp Road, where we stepped out and took photos at Camp Aya Po.

Camp Aya Po was once a YWCA camp in Somers. It sat on the banks of Hurds Lake, and welcomed children for eight decades each summer. Though the camp shut down in 2008, today the property is used for hiking, mountain biking and horse trail riding. “For peaceful enjoyment only,” the sign reads.

Stephanie and I walked around the site and noticed there were only three remaining structures that were left from the camp: an open pavilion, two cement pillars and an enormous stone fireplace.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of walking around the camp, but as we walked, talked, took photos and googled the location, I felt as though I was standing on hallowed ground. The large stone fireplace was once attached to a large mess hall. The two cement pillars once had a large bell on the top, which was used to signify the camps lunch hour.

Despite not witnessing anything “spooky” at Camp Aya Po, I almost felt a bit uncomfortable standing in the space. Judging by photos on the Internet, the camp was host to thousands of childhood memories. I couldn’t shake an odd feeling that I shouldn’t stay there for too long.

Stephanie and I loaded into the car and traveled back up to Hampden. We hoped we would see the same woman standing in the road and be able to sneak a photo to prove what we saw, but of course, she was long gone.

Though The Eerie Series has come to a close, we’d love to hear tales of when you’ve traveled to the spooky locations we’ve discussed. Or, perhaps you’ve had other haunting experiences in one of the surrounding communities? Email news@thereminder.com with your story.