THE LOST CHILDREN OF THE ALLEGHENIES MEMORIAL, ALSO KNOWN AS THE COX MONUMENT. | PHOTO BY SEAN COLLIER

Perhaps it’s appropriate: A monument memorializing lost children is itself very hard to find.

The Lost Children of the Alleghenies Memorial, also known as the Cox Monument, is a beguiling structure found in a particularly remote location. The sad story behind it is just as strange. (I first heard the tale on an episode of the Morbid podcast, which goes into much more detail than I can; I’d recommend a listen, particularly if you’re thinking of making the trip.)

In 1856, 7-year-old George and 5-year-old Joseph Cox wandered away from their small family home in Spruce Hollow, a remote hamlet in the Allegheny mountains. Despite more than a week of extraordinary efforts — including a period when suspicious neighbors ransacked the Cox home, and another stretch where a local witch was consulted — there was no sign of the boys.

Then, as the story goes, a local farmer had a dream.

For three straight nights, Jacob Dibert dreamed of following a certain path to a damaged birch deep in the woods. In each dream, he found the bodies of the boys at the foot of that tree. After the third dream, he enlisted the help of his brother-in-law, Harrison Whysong; the two followed the path from his dreams, with every detail matching Dibert’s claimed vision.

Tragically, Dibert and Whysong did find the boys’ bodies; apparently having been unable to find their way back home, the boys had tried to pass the night in the roots of a tree and succumbed to the elements.

While the uncanny discovery brought closure to the Cox parents and the community, sadness around the tragic tale lingered. Fifty years later, community members pitched in for a memorial that would stand on the exact spot where the boys were found. That monument, dedicated in 1906, still stands today, marking the location of Dibert’s heartbreaking discovery nearly 170 years ago.

It’s a strange and sad tale. And everything about the journey you’ll take to find the monument is appropriately odd.

JACOB DIBERT AND HARRISON WHYSONG FOUND THE BOYS ON MAY 8, 1856. | PHOTO BY SEAN COLLIER

First, you’re headed for a very in-between place. En route to the memorial, you’ll see plenty of signs for Blue Knob State Park … but you’re not going there, and following those signs will get you lost. (The memorial actually sits just a few hundred feet beyond the park’s boundaries.) It’s technically within State Game Lands 26, but that’s a hard address to Google.

Fortunately, at least in Google Maps, the exact location is marked; you can search for “Lost Children of the Alleghenies” and your GPS will know which way to go. Until you get close, at least; the satellites will keep tabs on you until about the time you take exit 7 on Interstate 99, then the mountainous terrain will leave you on your own. (It might be a good idea to download offline maps in advance, if your preferred GPS app allows it.)

Outside tiny Pavia, Pennsylvania, you’ll find an oddly quaint sign marking the memorial, with a line drawing of the two boys wandering in the forest. This marks the beginning of windy Monument Road, a paved path through dense forest; resist the urge to park here and walk, because the memorial itself is more than two miles away.

After more time passes than feels possible, you’ll find a sign labeled “Cox Monument” on a tree. You’ll park here and walk deeper into the woods, passing over streams and fallen logs. At this point, it becomes clear how the boys managed to get lost; the forest is thick, wild and disorienting. Fortunately, you have a path; I’d caution strongly against straying from it.

When you arrive, you’ll find a sign telling the story of the lost children, then find the memorial itself … behind something of a cage. To prevent vandalism, a small shelter and chain-link walls were erected around the monument; the odd structure certainly adds to the strangeness of the location, but it’s a sad indictment of previous visitors. More recent travelers have been more kind, leaving flowers and toys for the children at the memorial’s edge.

More than anything, you’ll be struck by the quiet and mystery of the forest around you. This is a beautiful place, but imposing; you’re a long way from home, and you’ll feel even farther from normalcy. I visited in broad daylight; I shudder to picture it after dark.

Bizarre though the experience of visiting the Lost Children of the Alleghenies is, I think it’s worthwhile. It’s a heartfelt remembrance of a personal tragedy — the sort of meaningful loss that could, and still can, affect a community.

It also speaks to the long history of this region; nearly 170 years later, this story is still told, thanks to a deliberate act of remembrance.