The Stranger in the Woods_ The - Michael Finkel

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Knight stood. He had on a black ski cap and a blue jacket over a hooded sweatshirt and was clean-shaven. The father, Roger Bellavance, held up his hands, one clutching a pair of binoculars, demonstrating that he had no gun. Knight’s hands had been in his pockets, but he pulled them out. He showed that he had no weapon, either. “I tried to convey the idea that I was harmless, no threat, using only my hands. I did not come close to them.” Knight insisted that he did not speak a word—“I communicated nonverbally”—though the Bellavances recalled him a mumbling a few phrases. The grandfather, Tony Bellavance, sensed immediately that they’d encountered the North Pond hermit. He knew the legend; he realized that cabins had been robbed. But in the presence of the hermit himself, Bellavance, who was convinced that the hermit was a military veteran, was struck with a very strong idea of what needed to be done. “He said we had to leave him alone,” recalled the father. “He said that he’s not hurting anyone. He’s up here for a reason, he said, and he doesn’t want to deal with people. My father’s a little Frenchman with a big heart, and he just thought this guy needed to be on his own, unbothered.” The son and father did not want to go against the grandfather’s wishes, so they did what he asked. The three men all promised out loud that they would let the hermit be. “We made an oath,” said the grandfather. “We swore we would never say anything.” The hermit nodded. Then, his arms still held out, palms open, as if ready to catch a beach ball, he leaned forward at the waist and bowed before the three men. “I don’t know why I bowed,” said Knight. “To convey the idea of thanks, I think.” The entire encounter lasted no more than a couple of minutes. The ice fishermen kept their promise, though Roger, the father, did tell his wife, who was unsure whether he was speaking the truth. No one took a photo or video. Roger said that later he had to fight the urge, several times, to return to the woods and try to talk to the hermit. But he respected Knight’s privacy. The men said nothing until after Knight was arrested; then Roger, thinking he might be able to help law enforcement find the campsite, told Trooper Vance the story. She didn’t believe it. Knight said that he hadn’t mentioned this incident with the ice fishermen to anyone because he felt that their pact remained in place. The agreement, the way he understood it, was that no one would ever say anything. But I’d just informed Knight, during a visit in the county jail, our seventh one in eight weeks, that the Bellavances had, in fact, spoken to others about it. Knight now felt that the pact was broken. “What about other pacts?” I asked. “Did more people find you?” “No, there were no other encounters,” Knight swore. People had been looking for him for years. If there’d been any hint that anyone had found his site, word would have spread in a flash. “Will you make a pact with me that you’re not covering up any others?” “Yes.” The ice-fishermen encounter seemed like just the sort of event for which Knight had established his emergency cache. He could have abandoned his camp well before the men saw him and moved somewhere else. Or he could have decamped immediately after. He said he seriously thought about evacuating, but there was a lot of snow. “To move, I’d have to leave footprints. I had little food. I took a chance they were good people.” Also, Knight admitted, the notion of starting over seemed exhausting. Had he been younger, he almost certainly would’ve moved. This was when he understood, he said, that “the circle was closing in.” Just two months after seeing the ice fishermen, as the snow was receding and the chickadees had started
to sing, with his food supplies nearing zero, Knight departed on a midnight thieving raid. He pried open a rear door of the Pine Tree dining hall. He filled his backpack and stepped out, and was suddenly blinded by a light while someone yelled at him to get on the ground.
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Also by Michael Finkel True Story:
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Contents Cover Also by Michael Fink
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In memory of Eileen Myrna Baker Fin
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1 The trees are mostly skinny where
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2 Terry Hughes’s wife nudges him
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eyes, and trains the .357 square in
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down, hands still locked behind his
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truth. Anything else would be wasti
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“I took no medications and never
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Or them. Nobody knew. Because of th
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North Pond hermit, it turns out, wa
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7 I learned about Christopher Knigh
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8 A white envelope arrived in my ma
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against the rules of journalism. I
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9 Augusta, Maine, is picturesque bu
Page 37 and 38: East accent. I plowed awkwardly on.
Page 39 and 40: 10 Knight lived in the same campsit
Page 41 and 42: Knight, matching him step for step.
Page 43 and 44: He’d spread a carpet over the mag
Page 45 and 46: It was the kind of total quiet that
Page 47 and 48: to the nature of the electromagneti
Page 49 and 50: something. Chris was smart and frie
Page 51 and 52: 13 But why? Why would a twenty-year
Page 53 and 54: including Charles Darwin, Thomas Ed
Page 55 and 56: 14 Knight actually did have a plan.
Page 57 and 58: the sorts of places where it’s ne
Page 59 and 60: their canoe has been borrowed and r
Page 61 and 62: 16 Knight lived in the dirt but was
Page 63 and 64: he was famished for words, he’d s
Page 65 and 66: Knight had a strong distaste for bi
Page 67 and 68: Knight’s camp. He began observing
Page 69 and 70: 18 The only book Knight didn’t st
Page 71 and 72: my winter toilet. Do my business. T
Page 73 and 74: pen name. “Human society has been
Page 75 and 76: do telethons? I hate Jerry Lewis.
Page 77 and 78: fed her, but with Knight she had no
Page 79 and 80: 21 A thousand poets sing of solitud
Page 81 and 82: “psychologically completely out o
Page 83 and 84: 22 Snow melted, flowers bloomed, in
Page 85 and 86: changes is where the brain is funct
Page 87: His thieving raids became considera
Page 91 and 92: inherited from her mother, and a co
Page 93 and 94: 25 A side door to the jail swings o
Page 95 and 96: Jail, he’s realized, might not be
Page 97 and 98: 26 Chris’s oldest brother, Daniel
Page 99 and 100: That note, thirty-four words long,
Page 101 and 102: the bright side. The sun will come
Page 103 and 104: 28 A mile down the road, I pull ove
Page 105 and 106: It’s now just a spot in the woods
Page 107 and 108: For insight into Knight: Matt Hongo
Page 109 and 110: Annette Schipf Chris Anderson David
Page 111 and 112: David and Louise Proulx, whose tiny
Page 113 and 114: A Note About the Author Michael Fin
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The Stranger in the Woods_ The - Michael Finkel

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