Shapes of Fear

Written By Nicole Chevalier

In terms of space-based legends, one shape seems to trump all

When people use the words “geographic” and “geometric” in the same sentence, it’s first of all, difficult to say, but more universally will bring to mind one of the most famous mysteries of the modern world. Of course, I use the term modern loosely, as reports regarding the Bermuda Triangle date back to at least the 1400s. Christopher Columbus made note of the area, describing erratic compass readings and strange bursts of light in the sky. Despite the fact that we’re now able to take what he said with a bag of salt, having a better understanding of science and the world in general, it’s still noteworthy because, well, it was noted. The Bermuda Triangle has been blamed for centuries of strange happenings, mostly disappearances, and that mystery continues on to today. Despite researchers’ constant efforts to offer new and plausible solutions to the mystery, there seems to be almost double the effort put into debunking them. If there’s one thing people love, it’s a good mystery, so if you’d trust me for a moment darling listener, I’d like to take you with me right to the map’s edge. But be warned: Here, There be Monsters. 

The Bermuda triangle covers just about 500,000 square miles between Miami, Puerto Rico and Bermuda, and claims innumerable wrecks. Part of the mystery comes from the fact that it’s not only ships that have fallen victim to its borders; planes have also reportedly malfunctioned, crashing down into its depths. At least one story places its origin point in legend around 1880, with the story of the Ellen Austin. While in transit to New York, the Ellen Austin spotted another ship, floating along in the water. After confirming it was crewless, they boarded, taking a look around. What they found was a mobile ghost-town; personal belongings and rations set out as if their owners had just stepped out of the room a moment. Everything, from the shipment to the crew’s quarters was left in a tableau of work. Everything, that is, but the Captain’s log and ship’s nameplate, which none of them managed to locate. The Captain decided to bring it back with them nonetheless in hopes of claiming some sort of reward or prize money. Setting apart a small portion of the crew to sail the unnamed vessel, the ships reportedly set out once again. However, a thick fog enveloped them, possibly due to a storm, and the Ellen Austin lost sight of its prize. By the time they managed to locate it again, I imagine the crew was more than a little relieved, not ready to lose the prospect of their payout. They attempted to check-in with the separated crew, only to receive nothing in response. Reboarding, the crew discovered their salvage crew counterparts had vanished. All of them, gone, leaving the ship in the same Twilight Zone mockery of sea-life that they had seen the first time. Naturally, a decision was reached; if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. And so a second salvage crew was designated, and they, once more, set out for New York. I can’t help but wonder, when the second fog set in, did the Captain immediately realize what he had done? Or was it boarding the empty ship a third time that made him question his decision? I can’t imagine how it would feel, staring at an empty table of still-set plates, knowing someone’s going to have to tell someone, and wondering if it’d be better off to just lie about it. After all, men disappear at sea all the time.

For something with reportedly so long and so creepy a history, The Bermuda Triangle didn’t really show up in popular knowledge until the 1900s, though the influx of ships at wartime may do much to explain the sudden notice. Reportedly, the first casualty to catch the general public’s attention was the USS Cyclops, a 542-foot-long Navy cargo ship with over 300 men and 10,000 tons of manganese ore, which disappeared in 1918. Despite the extensive crew and plenty of tech, the ship didn’t so much as send out a distress call, it simply… Vanished. And it wasn’t alone. Years later, two similar ships would meet the same fate. 

In 1919, the Carroll A. Deering washed up ashore near Cape Hatteras in North Carolina, which, I can tell you from experience, has some very dope lighthouses. In this host’s opinion, the best lighthouse would be the one located on Body Island, simply for the name alone. When the Carroll A. Deering was found, there were no signs of the crew, nor any indication that they’d even been aboard when it came aground. 

As the years continued, more and more ships began to disappear in the triangle’s waters, until, evidently unsatiated, it turned its hungry gaze to the sky. In 1945 it claimed five Navy bombers carrying 14 men altogether. Despite being trained military pilots, the team reportedly became disoriented, circling within the area until they ran out of fuel and were forced to make a water landing. Thirteen more men soon flew out, prepared to rescue their counterparts, and made it into the triangle only to, well, disappear. The Navy of course conducted an extensive week’s long search mission, but nothing turned up, the official report stating that it was “as if they had flown to mars.” And again, this wasn’t some 1400s compass mishap, these were 26 WWII Navy Pilots, and not a single one of them managed to make it back.

And more planes continued to fall, including three passenger planes who all radioed back to report all was well shortly before disappearing. However, it wasn’t until 1964 that the infamous Triangle would earn its name, coined by author Vincent Gaddis. And of course the public went nuts for it, because, well, who wouldn’t? It’s the perfect sort of story that fits right between “deeply terrifying” and “easily avoidable.” You can terrify yourself all you want, and still be safe so long as you don’t board a vessel chartered over the area. After all, how hard could it be? And with that frenzy came a whole host of pet theories, ranging from natural fault lines releasing methane gas to a favorite fishing spot for UFOs and Sea Monsters, to interference by leftover technologies within Atlantis. This host is particularly partial to the reverse gravity theory, because, quite frankly, it’s hilarious to imagine, so long as you don’t imagine too hard. Unfortunately, it’s also this host’s opinion that, despite the seeming incredibility of it all, the culprit is far more likely to be statistics than anything else, which is dreadful in its own right.

Anyone who’s ever had to take a proper statistics course can tell you that it ruins everything. For me, it began with the fact that it was a three hour class scheduled at 6:30 PM, with a very zealous professor who, unfortunately, was perhaps the only person alive who actually enjoyed statistics, and didn’t understand why we didn’t already know all the equations by heart for the sheer love of it. I spent most of that class researching galic music boxes and still graduated with honors, so that’s a reminder to keep to your dreams. Anyway, in the case of the Bermuda Triangle, the waters between Miami, Puerto Rico, and Bermuda all happen to be very well-traveled even without counting the cruise industry. While it’s true you can point to a whole mess of disappearances, the unfortunate fact is that comparing the traffic to accident rate results in unremarkable results. It’s like insisting two people swimming with ten sharks are in more danger than one person swimming with five. One pool may have double the casualty, but there’s also double the resources. Say there’s even a one in one hundred chance. If a thousand boats go through, that’s ten boats. One in a thousand chance, that’s still one. No matter how much you grow the numbers, the rate of likelihood of error remains the same, whether through mechanical issues, magnetic fields, or sudden reverse gravity beam. The terrifying truth is, the Bermuda Triangle is just as dangerous as the rest of the ocean. And maybe that’s the part that ought to scare us. Because you can avoid 500,000 square miles; the planet’s big enough. But you can’t avoid it all, and you can’t avoid it forever.

Map’s End is written and recorded by Nicole Chevalier with music by Scare the Raven.

More of Scare the Raven’s work can be found via our website, MapsEndPodcast.com, or by emailing them at ScareTheRaven@gmail.com. Transcripts and sources can be also found on our website by accessing the episode page.

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And thanks for listening. 

Nicole Chevalier
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