ENTER THE "GATES OF HELL"
Over the centuries great explorers have risked life and limb in pursuit of mystical and fabled locations throughout the world. Whether it’s the fountain of youth, Atlantis, or El Dorado, the lost city of gold, history shows us that people have always sought out places of deep mystery. Much closer to home, modern day adventurers are still seeking answers to life’s age old questions in dark and frightening places, and confronting the fears within themselves that are shared by us all. One place where you might find such dwellers on the threshold these days is just outside Clifton’s Gates of Hell.
MEET ME AT THE GATES OF HELL, AND BRING A FLASHLIGHT!
"Growing up in Clifton from six years of age, it wasn’t too hard to learn of the many stories of wrong doings and evil happenings at a spot known to all as the Gates of Hell. My first recollections of this mystical place were from the older kids.
They would tell stories of people entering these tunnels and never returning back to daylight again. Satanic sacrifices, bones everywhere, decaying carcasses, and upside down crosses, anything dealing with the darkness in human nature was supposedly down there. Perhaps most chilling to me though, were the stories of a secret room many layers under the ground. This room was only to be entered if you possessed the powers, which would enable you to lift axes that weighed thousands of pounds and blocked the door. Inside this room was a dungeon that housed a glowing human skull, or so it was said. There were supposedly seven layers of tunnels, and the lower you got, the closer you came to meeting the Devil himself face to face.
As a young boy of only eight or nine, these stories made Clifton an especially unusual place to live. The thought that such a normal town could house such a frightening secret was too much to comprehend, and enough to make me stay far away from the Gates of Hell. But I always wanted to find this spot to satisfy my own craving of knowledge and my wonderment of the unknown. At that age though, Clifton seemed as big as the universe and the Gates of Hell was a bit farther away than my mom would let me ride my bike.
Time passed and my craving for weird places continued. Finally when I was sixteen, I was introduced to the Gates first hand for the first time. I still remember that day as if it happened yesterday: My friend and I had driven up to the now demolished insane asylum in Verona. We spent some time daring each other to enter the abandoned buildings and read some case histories on the former patients. Afterwards, my friend asked me if I had ever been to the Gates of Hell. He said he knew where it was located, so we set out to explore.
After a few dead ends we finally found a route and descended down a hill, through trees and bushes and down to the concrete sewer tunnels. It was already much darker from all of the tree cover, and my stomach began to drop as we climbed down to the level that the tunnel entrances were located on. I could feel the fear running from my feet straight up to my shoulders, and it almost hurt it was so intense. All that I had heard and envisioned for the last half of my life was hitting me at once, and all I could do was walk on one cautious step at a time.
Looking at the entrance was more terrifying than anything else. Unlike the other tunnels nearby, which were round and had small streams of water flowing from them, this entrance was square, had no water flow, and was right in the darkest corner of the ditch, as if it was not even supposed to be there and served no purpose. At this point I was ready to leave and go home. I had seen the entrance, and I now believed everything I heard just by looking at it. It seemed to me to be pure evil.
All of a sudden I realized that the only way to overcome my fear and conquer the Gates of Hell was to enter the tunnels. My friend agreed, and we put on our flashlights and slowly proceeded in. It was just like a Scooby Doo cartoon, with Shaggy and Scoob going down a dark tunnel, each as scared as the other, but this time it was no cartoon, and we were not going ahead to earn a Scooby snack.
After about five paces into the tunnel it became dark, and soon the only light there was, was coming from our flashlights. We looked back toward the entrance and what little sun there was shining through the clouded sky was setting, and not giving us much assurance that we’d ever see it again.
As I shined my light on the ceiling I saw old cracked concrete covered with huge spiders. Finally we came to the end of the first tunnel, and it led to a split of more tunnels. Unfortunately these tunnels had some running water in them, so we chose the one with the least water and trudged on through.
About another fifteen yards down this tunnel we started to hear a strange knocking sound. This was a shock to the system, since it had previously been totally quiet, except for the flow of the water. We just looked at each other with very pale faces and kept going. After about another ten yards or so I heard another noise. This time it was almost like a whispering through the water. I looked at my friend and I can remember exactly what he said.
"Oh no, people man, let’s get out of here!" We sprinted down the tunnels, through the water, up the wall, over the hill, and all the way to the car. It was just like in the movies—two kids running for their lives as if Satan himself was at their heals! We jumped in the car as if someone was still following us and took off.
I wasn’t sure what the hell we had heard. My friend swears it was someone whispering some chant deeper in the tunnels. I’m still not sure, and never will be, but I felt a relief that in a way I had conquered the Gates of Hell. Still though, for at least a month after this event happened, I felt as if someone was watching me. Late at night when I couldn’t sleep, my mind would convince me that someone did follow us back to my house and was waiting to surprise me and drag me back down into the Gates of Hell forever.
Years later I made several more trips back to the Gates of Hell, but after telling my story I could never convince anyone else to venture into the tunnels as far as my best friend and I did that one summer day."
- Ralph S.
RED EYED MIKE: GUARDIAN OF THE GATES
"I now reside in Florida, but lived in New Jersey for 21 of my 27 years. I have explored just about every inch of Clifton and have many unusual stories to tell. None are as eerie as the Gates of Hell! If you walk the railroad tracks, they will lead you to a high rise in the track. Looking down from the high rise, you will see a wooden coffin from the 1800’s. You can make your way down a ladder to what is a storm drain junction. There are four tunnels in all, the farthest one is dry. The entrance is an old brick tunnel covered with a ton of graffiti, which is rumored to be the home of much satanic activity. The dry tunnel quickly turns into a flowing one. There is said to be a battle-axe down there, which is too heavy to be lifted by mortal men. While I’ve never found that, I have seen an altar room, which is covered with murals. Tunnels lead in every direction.
Red Eyed Mike is the spirit that guards the entrance of the tunnel. If you knock on the railroad ties above the entrance three times, you will hear a loud horn blast emanate from within the tunnel. I have heard this horn, not every time I’ve tried this, but it has sent me running so fast that I nearly broke my leg. I’ve also encountered rocks being tossed out of the tunnel with no apparent deliverer. I’ve also seen a small figure, about three feet high, sprint out of the tunnel faster than any human being can move, and take off towards the tunnel that leads to Weasel Brook Park. I was later told that this was Red Eyed Mike."
- Jeff H.
To read more stories on Clifton’s Gates of Hell check out issue #9, #10 and #11 of Weird NJ, or see our video “Greetings From Weird NJ.”
