The known end of ‘The Reflection Corridor’ is attached to a tree in western Wisconsin and it seems to have appeared there without state permission, given the on-again, off-again availability of the experience. It’s taken some research to finally see the thing and it’s initially something of a let down: a square mirror not more than an inch wide, held tightly to a cedar by two lengths of wire. I’m tempted, at first, to check it off the list and to try to get a few more miles in before sundown but a number of very specific conditions led to this success and it seems a shame to waste it. There is a website, for instance, that regularly updates the condition of ‘The Reflection Corridor’ every hour, stating with fair reliability whether it’s open or closed. This is an improvement on the old ways, which required an amount of digging through niche forums for posts about ‘The Reflection Corridor’ and deciding whether those posts were recent enough to warrant risk disappointment at the end of a three-hour hike.
The website relies upon visitor data and, in an effort to contribute, I snap a picture of the mirror and submit it as confirmation: ‘The Corridor’ is still available.
The reliability of the website is a double-edged sword, of course, because it means that any zealous forest ranger with a cellphone can just as easily determine whether or not ‘The Reflection Corridor’ has reappeared and can make the hike out to disassemble it. Early iterations were nailed into the tree which is, admittedly, a little more damage than I care to see done to a forest for the sake of Wayside intrigue. Ranger response has been fairly negative since then, even with the improved methods of attachment.
All this to say that I happened to be nearby in that murky calendar holiday period when rangers are less likely to be on duty while the website showed the green light and the hike out wasn’t complicated by weather, it being autumn, after all.
Hector looks sporting in a raggedy sweater and I’m sweating, myself, to carry him and everything else we own along the way. I check the weather again to make sure none of this unseasonal snow catches us by surprise and, seeing the forecast is clear, decide to set up camp. I keep it minimal, since I haven’t got a permit of any sort, but it’s enough to be cozy. Hector sleeps and I catch up on some reading, trying to decide where we’re off to next.
The sun begins to set an hour later and it’s only then that I notice movement in ‘The Corridor.’ It flashes white, then red, then white again. Could be the sunset itself, right? Against my better judgement, I evict Hector from my lap and stand to investigate.
‘More a passage than a corridor and not really much of either, ‘The Reflection Corridor’ is a complicated and mysterious series of mirrors placed carefully across the continental U.S. so that the landscape on one side will appear clearly reflected on the opposite. Some of these mirrors are straight, others are bent or curved or otherwise out of focus- whatever it takes to keep the image clear on either end. It’s a telescope, really, and not a very useful one.
Nobody can quite agree about what it’s pointed at and the system is long enough, runs through enough private property, that it has never been traced in full. The longest stretch was discovered when a lengthy fogbank sat above the states for three days. Volunteers used high-powered flashlights to illuminate otherwise invisible lengths of ‘The Reflection Corridor’ until it was lost over the eastern seaboard. It could very well be that ‘The Reflection Corridor’ is among the few international Wayside attractions, bouncing between stations far out to sea.’
The flashing continues for a full hour, long after the sun has gone down. It is patterned and purposeful. Blinding when I try to look directly in the mirror. I brush up on my morse code. When that fails me, I use my slim bar of internet to look into more esoteric cyphers. None provide any insight into the flashing.
Around one in the morning I happen to look into ‘The Reflection Corridor’ and I see a forest, much like the one in which I stand but bathed in daylight and upside down as though by some quirk in the mirrors. It’s a strain on the eyes to see but I watch for a long time until a man appears in the forest and stares back at me.
He stares and stares until I am convinced to pack my camp and leave. He has been in the mirrors ever since, those on the bike and those in the bathrooms of cheap motels. As long as ‘The Reflection Corridor’ is unbroken, the man is there.
-traveler
