Beneath the hum of traffic on West 38th Street lies a secret most Erie residents have never heard of: a tunnel built decades ago, sealed and abandoned before it was ever used. Today, it sits closed in with wrought iron gates at both ends, a relic of ambition turned ghost story.

To reach it, there’s a sweeping paved walkway that winds through the woods—a path beautiful in its symmetry, eerie in its silence. The pavement leads you toward the tunnel like a forgotten invitation, but the way is barred. The tunnel itself is only accessible across public works property, so we don’t recommend anyone attempt to enter. Still, just knowing it’s there beneath your feet is enough to stir unease.

The Erie Zoo, originally named Glenwood Park Zoo in 1924, grew out of the Robert Evans estate and expanded rapidly in the 20th century. As part of those expansions, infrastructure like the 38th Street tunnel was envisioned to ease movement between the zoo and surrounding parkland. But the tunnel was forgotten, overshadowed by other projects and improvements. In 2020, it briefly reappeared in headlines when a fire damaged displays stored inside, including props from Zoo Boo and parade floats. After that, the gates were locked again, and the tunnel slipped back into obscurity.

Locals whisper that the tunnel hums with strange echoes. Some say you can hear dripping water and phantom footsteps even when the gates are sealed. Others claim to have seen lantern light flicker inside, though no one is permitted to enter. The wrought iron bars themselves feel like a warning: this place was meant to be forgotten.

It’s a lovely trail, yes—pavement winding through the woods, the creek nearby—but it’s also a reminder of Erie’s hidden layers. Roads that vanish, tunnels that lead nowhere, projects abandoned but never erased. The Glenwood Zoo tunnel is one of those places where history and mystery overlap, a ghost of civic planning that lingers beneath the city’s everyday life.