When I was 22, back in 1985, I decided to go on a camping trip in northern Ontario. Back then I was finishing up college at the University of Toronto. I had taken a gap year after high school to travel the world, much to the dismay of my parents. I’ve been very familiar with hiking and backpacking so going camping was very comfortable territory.
It was early fall and I wanted to relax before my last year of college got rolling again. The leaves on the trees had started to change and I knew it would be perfect for camping. I let my friends and family know where I was going and I was on my way. The drive wasn’t too long, thankfully living in Toronto meant that I was only a few hours away from the greatest parks in the world, parks like Algonquin Provincial Park. I got there in the early morning, it was as beautiful as I had been told. I had been camping many places but I hadn’t been here yet. People at school would always tell me that I should head up there but I never could find the time. I rented a canoe for the 2 days I’d be there, plopped my gear into the boat, and started paddling.
It started out well, calming in fact. The water was so smooth it looked like I was paddling along a mirror. The silence was almost overwhelming, occasionally I’d hear a loon’s call, but other than that nothing else. I paddled until I came to a portage. It’s a point along a river or lake where you have to carry your canoe and gear across land to get to the next lake. There was two people there, a father and his teenage son. I talked with them for a few minutes while I gathered up my things. They mentioned that they were staying at a camp site on the next lake, I said I was staying at the same lake. Something was off about the teen though. He never said a word, just stared at me. He never blinked once. His eyes were green, and he stared at me with such ferocity, it felt like he was staring through my soul. I tried not to look at him, even just taking to the father I could feel his gaze. The father introduced him as Johnny, and introduced himself as Frank. I picked up my canoe and said goodbye, walking as fast as I could down the trail.
After the portage it was only another 2 hours of paddling until I got to my campsite. I set up just as I had a hundred times before. My tent was at the perfect spot, on a short cliff side over looking the lake. The was a loon floating in the middle, the sight looked so beautiful. In college I was studying photography, I had a big project coming up and I knew that if I could have this shot in my portfolio, I could really knock the project out of the park.
I reached into my rucksack and felt around for my camera. I pulled it out and started taking shots. One after another, clicking the shutter and rotating the film. After about 10 shots I figured I had enough. I spun around and took some shots of my camp. I spent the rest of the night lighting a fire, cooking some hotdogs, and taking in the scenery. I’ll never forget the way the night sky looked. Clear, not a single cloud in the sky, and since I was so far north, the stars were plentiful. The lake was calm, and with all the stars in the sky, I couldn’t tell where the lake started and where the sky began. I could only wish my camera could truly capture its beauty.
As my fire began to die down, I began to feel uncomfortable. I felt overwhelmingly uneasy, as if someone had been watching me. I stood up and spun around, my flashlight scanning the outskirts of my camp. I knew something was there, I just knew it. I heard a crack, I spun to my left, and there it was. Just a deer, I sighed in relief. I never felt right about that teenager I saw earlier that day and I felt worried that he may have followed me or something.
I unzipped my tent and climbed in making sure to zip up the door behind me. Tired I climbed into my sleeping bag and fell asleep almost immediately, paddling really takes up a lot of energy, who knew? I woke up as the sun was coming up over the trees to the east. I got out of my tent hoping to see the sunrise, I knew I didn’t want to miss it. As I climbed out of the tent something was off. Over to my right I noticed my camera, hanging from a low hanging branch on a tree. Did I leave it there? I thought I put it back in my bag, or did I? I was so tired that night maybe I forgot. I looked around so more but I didn’t notice anything else out of place. Surely if something was, then my camp would look different right? I pushed the thought out of my mind, I grabbed my camera and took a couple more shots of my camp. The early morning rays was creating some wonderful lighting, there was no way I wasn’t taking more pictures.
I made some breakfast and coffee, packed up my things and I started paddling back out of the park. After going back through the portage and returning the canoe, I started on my drive back to my apartment in Toronto. I was excited to get back, I wanted to develop my pictures I took. I was hoping they came out great. I got home late afternoon, threw my rucksack into my apartment and ran back down the stairs up. I knew the school’s dark room was open for only a few more hours and I wanted to develop the pictures before it closed. I got there only 20 minutes after leaving my apartment, I couldn’t wait to see the pictures.
The first picture started fading in, it was the shot overlooking the lake. I sighed in relief, it looked gorgeous. The colour of the fall leaves, the calm water, and even the loon made it into the shot. I was so pleased, everything was perfect. I stared at the picture for a few more minutes, then moved onto the next. More pictures started fading in first the shots of the campsite, the camp fire, the bench, the surrounding trees, and then…..I stopped. Something was in one of the shots. In the background, poking out from behind a tree, was a head. It was the boy, Johnny, the one I met at that portage. I felt nauseous, was that feeling I had before I went to bed right? How long had he been there? I rubbed my eyes hoping I was seeing something, maybe I was mistaking natural effects as a head. Nothing, it was still there. The next picture started fading in, it was my tent, at night. My camera’s flash had lit up the tent and the surrounding ground. When did I take this picture? “I don’t remember taking this”, I said out loud. Then I remembered, my camera that next morning, hanging up on the tree. I fell to the ground, clutching my chest, my heart was pounding so fast. “That damn boy”, I thought, “He took my camera and watched me”.
I dreaded developing the last picture, I prayed hoping this next one would be the ones I took the next morning. The picture started fading in. It felt like an eternity, my anticipation was killing me. Slowly, the picture started taking shape. Slowly, I saw it, I audibly screamed. My nightmare had become a reality. For the picture was me, asleep in my sleeping bag inside my tent. I felt incredibly uneasy, I vomited on the ground in front of me. The fear I felt was greater than anything I felt before. I gathered up the pictures and ran home to my apartment.
I called up the park and immediately started to explain to them what happened. I was frantic, practically screaming on the phone. The Ranger on the phone yelled and told me to calm down and slowly explain it. I told him everything, the trip, the boy, the pictures, everything. I told them that they said they were staying on the same lake and I told them their names. The ranger told me to hold on while he checked his files, once back on the phone he said, “Is this some sort of prank?” I was dumbfounded, “No of course not!”, I was scared and frustrated, how dare he suggest I was lying? “This sort of thing isn’t funny and it’s a waste of my time quite frankly”, he said. “I’m not lying you fucker, it’s the truth!”, I screamed into the phone.
“Whatever, there’s no Frank and no Johnny on file here. No one except you was staying on that lake yesterday, no one was staying within miles of you, goodbye”. He hung up the phone. I sat down on my bed confused and frightened at what just happened. To this day, I refuse to enter the park and warn anyone who dares to enter.