Alright, folks from the previous thread had asked me for my 2nd scariest story. Wasnt sure about sharing it since its kind of woowoo, but, thought about it and decided, “fuck it.” Here it is.
I had a self rescue i had to do in the laramie peak range. I lost my gear and map and shelter in a wind storm. Took a few days to get out, had some deeply unpleasant experiences along the way. This isnt that story. It sucked ass, but not all that scary, i kept a cool head. Typically thats who i am. Im the person who stays calm in crisis, and i mentoon that to give you a litmus test for what it takes to freak me out, to make me lose my cool. This is about a time when i had all my gear but i couldn’t keep my cool.
There are a lot of cool little trails in Colorado, some well known, some only locals know. There are mountains and forests for days out there. In 2013, we got torrential downpours in September along the eastern slope. It was squelchy as shit for a while, and then a glorious mushrooming boom happened. I love mushrooms, i love to forage (take 1 leave 3), and my absolute favorite is the Boletus Rubriceps. The conditions werent exactly right, but i thought… why not? I gave it a shot.
Im not saying where my spot is. Wild horses couldnt etc etc. i will say i also have the native hazel there, some actually fruiting manzanita, watermelonberry (twiststalk claspleaf), currants, rosehips, raspberries, strawberries, and a frequently oysters, morels, hawks wings, puffballs (the big ones in one meadow), milky caps, chicken of the woods and chicken of the road, and the only chanterelles ive found in the region all in a glorious few acres. Its wonderful. I can dispersed camp there. This is where i went, no brainer. Now its fall, even if its somewhat early fall, so i know that Yogi and Booboo are gonna be out stuffing it for the winter, so ive got my spray, and my uncle’s lever action 44 mag henry. GF at the time was supposed to come with but couldnt get off work, so solo it was. I figured i could practice some firecraft, maybe build a chair, maybe a smoker, and in general just have a nice few days out.
I went up early in the morning, hiked about 7 miles in, set up my shelter, set up to enjoy the rare luxury of a real fire in colorado later, and started to do my stuff, set up a couple rods with bells, got out my baskets and set up my dryer and its shelter far away from my sleeping tarp shelter. I was squelching around with my foraging gear out in a few minutes and having a blast. I marched happily along pretty much until dusk, and then pulled out my head lamp and kept going well past i should have, but damn did i get a haul. It was an incredible spread, and i left plenty for the woodland critters. I got back to my camp, started cleaning and drying, and probably didnt get to my dinner until 1 in the morning. I had caught two brook trout of reasonable size, gutted em, and let em hang in a bug net nesr the creek for the next day. Figured it was cold enough that theyd be ok. I got back to my little dinky tarp shelter around 3 am, and went inside, toweled off, and passed out.
I awoke around 10 am or so the next day and the woods were silent. I mean no birds, no bugs. Wind in the branches, nearby brook gurgling, and thats it. Usually theres something. I decided to be cautious and go about my business. My camp was exactly as i had left it, except for two things. The first was there was a branch, about two feet long, thick as a wrist, laid against the tree my pack was tied to. It had been gnawed, like by a beaver, on both ends, which ive heard of but have never seen before or since. It had no bark on it, but still was green wood. Had to have been left there, but to what end i have no idea.
Unsettling? Sure. Freaky? Not really. I wasnt scared, actually my first thought was i must have picked it up and forgotten about it, and i put it out of my mind and went to collect my fish, which hopefully were still there and werent rotten or nasty yet.
I got into sight of them, or rather, the bug net they were in. They were gone. Bug net was loose but intact(its the draw string bag shaped kind) and empty, and both fish heads were still hanging in there, but the rest of the fish were gone. Oookay. Probably another person, then. Someone is giving me the scooby doo treatment. I had a bunch of charcoal from the fire and there was a nice big rock next to my fishing spot so i scrawled on there “if youre hungry, come say hi and ill share my meal,” with an arrow pointing roughly towards my camp. Grumpy more than unsettled now. I guess weird beaver branch is a trade for my fish? Whatever.
I went to check on my drying shrooms and my berry cooler and low and behold, everything under the tarp is untouched. However, i hadnt swept out any of the debris beneath it. Why bother? Well, now there was no debris beneath my tarp. Just straight dirt and rocks. Weird, again. I started looking more seriously for tracks, and find nothing. Probably debris swept out from under my shelter was covering them. Fuck it. Not here to play junior detective, im here to frolic in the woodlands and collect responsible amounts of treasured forageables, goddamnit.
I shake it off, go back to the creek to set my lines again, and i notice my bells are gone. Ok. I couldnt remember if they had been there that morning or not, so i assume they were taken the previous night. I had only tied the rods to the tree after all, it was easy grabbing.
I wwent back to my tarp, made some food and coffee, shook it off and went about my business. Now, heres the somewhat embarassing thing: i know to make noise in the woods if bears can be around, and i like to sing. This isnt the same as “singing well” or “singing manly shanties and viking epic poems.” This is, by and large, singing whatever had been playing on the speakers at my job. Sooo, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Florence and the Machine, Lorde. You get the picture. Also, im a bass.
Whatever, dont judge me. Stuff is designed to be catchy.
So, i went back on my rounds, and i found some fire morels or ash morels, which are a really rare treat. I was really excited, There are hundreds of them, and its super late for them to show up. Theyre my favorite morels. I set about to collecting some, and kept myself company by singing. Alright. I was singing Bad Romance, by one Stefani Germanotta. I know. I got to the “whooa-oh-oh-oh-ooooh” part, if youve heard it you know it, when i heard what sounded like someone harmonizing. Like i said, Im a bass, but this was higher, tenor or alto and muted by distance a little. It was also completely and undeniably wrong. Scratchy, gravelly, almost buzzy, syllables weird and clipped and disjointed, and a little off key and off rhythm. Uncanny valley for sounds. I shut up immediately and froze, and it continued for a moment, and then stopped.
I was experiencing a little bit of what my friends always call puckerbutt, and started to slowly reach back behind for my Henry on its strap, and i heard a single sudden yelp or bark or something and some rustling from somewhere uphill of me, behind the tree line. i take a few breaths, assuming i had freaked the other party out as much as they did me, and force myself to relax. I keep small binos on me and i scanned the treeline but i didnt see anything. I thought, this is probably whoever took my fish, probably someone squatting out here. Im gonna keep my head on a swivel some but if they were gonna be a problem i feel like they already would have confronted me or taken a potshot or something.
It also occured to me, finally, that i could have just been hearing some weird echo. That thought gave me a little more peace and calm than i had a few minutes before, although it didnt explain the yelp, but normal animal activity does. Hooray rationalizing. i decide that that is enough morels, and i do not want to be drying them after dark so i head back to camp, and get to making that happen.
Am i an idiot? Maybe. I really didnt want to go home. I love wet weather, ive grown up in high deserts my whole life, and getting to really see some green that late in the year is such a treat. I wanted to stay, creepy bullshit be damned. I had had mlments wher my brain had tricked me before, and i talked myself into believing that it was happening again.
I kept singing to myself, more quietly than i was before, (Sia’s titanium) and it happens again. The weird buzzy higher voice joins in, again from a distance, and again, I feel the bottom drop out of my stomach.
I know this probably just sounds creepy because i thought i was alone, but its hard to convey how off sounding this was. It was fairly close to what i had been singing, but like it was coming up out a culvert or soemthing, and a few octaves higher. Just as buzzy and clicky and hoarse sounding.
If youve ever heard a tornado, or a parrot talking, or squeaking breaks, or a train whistle, youll get a sense of the qualities this voice had. Its a pitch a human can emulate with their throat, but the texture and shape of the sound arent really how we sound. Like that.
I was not having it at all. I shut up immediately again, and this time got the henry off my back and looked around me. I figured this had to be somebody fucking with me. Not unheard of for good foraging spots (look up the fights over huckleberry patches if you dont believe me) but definitely my first time. Again, the singing continued for a moment after i stopped, again from uphill and further in the woods, and definitely in a direction I hadnt gone yet.
I called out, anounced myself and asked them to answer please. Nothing. Tried again, nothing. Silence again. And since im listening, i notice it again. Just wind in the trees and the creek. No animal noises. No bugs. My head had felt a little squeezy so i decided i needed to check the weather when i was sure i wasnt gonna get shot ir something, maybe a storm was rolling in.
Bingo. I had headed over to a clearing and for sure, storm was rolling in, as always hard to judge speed but it wasnt a bad idea to see about reconfiguring my tarp and having an early bed time. Again, a little more at peace, since i figure any more bullshit from my apparent neighbor is gonna be less likely.
I went back to my fishing rods, lucked out and found i had caught a bigger trout than the night before. I gutted it, cooked it, and ate it on the spot, those of you in the know know its hard to beat. I collected some water for the next day, packed up my foraging stuff and lashed it all to trunk, and decided to call it there before dusk was on its way in. I set up my tarp in a lower to the ground, more wind rssistant configuration and set up a spare, older one as a kind of rainfly over the entrance. Its worth noting that this was an old lightweight silver colored nylon backpacking tarp, fairly thin set up facing the clearing, since likely the worst wind would be coming from there. it also pretty much blocked my view of the clearing. I did another widow maker check, all good, made a hot cocoa and tucked in just as it was starting to come down.
It came down hard. I had to put in some earplugs. Lightning was frequent and loud, and i didnt stay particularly dry and didnt get much sleep. It was, all in all one of the most unpleasant amd awe inspiring nights i had had camping.
Somrwhere in the middle of the night i thought i heard/felt something bounce off my tarp, kind of behind me. Well, not that weird. It happens in storms. Figured it was a branch.
Then a few minutes later i see something, maybe a stone, about the size of a plum, bounce off of my tarp, off the rain fly and land in front of me. i get my headlamp turned on and sure as shit, its a rock. Roujd but not symmetrical or spherical, and smooth. A river rock. Rocks don’t fall off trees as a rule and if this storm had picked one this round up i should have been airborne. Then another one a few minutes later, similar trajectory. Then nothing but the storm for a while. What am i gonna do? Investigate and get soaked? I had my gun, and if shit was gonna go down i was about as ready as i could be. I turned my headlamp back off.
I then got treated to pretty much the most awe inspiring amount of lighting i have ever seen in my life. The sky is lit up for seconds at a time, the earplugs were not protecting me from the thunder and my ears are ringing. I keep seeing the trees from the edge of the treeline and the clearing projected, in shadow form, onto my rainfly over and over again, dancing this way and that. It was really beautiful and if kind of inherently scary, also exhilirating. I really couldnt look away.
Then, pretty clearly, i saw what looked like a person, walking along the treeline, outlined against the trees and my rainfly by the lightning. They were walking weirdly, not running from cover to cover but just kinda strolling a little unsteadily, like a drunk person. The silhouette wasnt bulky, and for some reason i got the impression they werent wearing clothes or if they were it was very very tight. Not like rain gear.
They stopped, and weather or not they were facing me or the clearing i couldnt tell you, but i felt watched and very exposed. The figure stood, swaying a little, probably being pushed around by the winds, and just looked at whatever they were looking at. I got little glimpses here and there, as the lightning flashed, but they didnt appear to be moving much. It was pretty freaky, and i didnt move except to get my gun in front of me. Then i had another rock land on my tarp, bounce off and land in front of me.
That was a bad moment. Lightning had stopped for a bit, ans the thunder had died down for a moment. I had horrible, slow realiziation that i was very likely surrounded. Then i heard, cutting through the ringing in my ears and momentary silence, clear as it had been earlier but sounding much closer, the chorus from “Titanium” from behind my tarp. If you dont know the words, here they are:
“I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose, fire away, fire away.
Ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away.”
Then nothing.
i looked back towards the front and realized i didnt see that figure projected by the lighning anymore, now that there was a lull in the lightning. I remember thinking “shit shit shit” just over and over again. I basically was going to have to crawl out of my tarp to get on my feet, and there was pretty much no way i was gonna stay in my shelter anymore.
I counted down from ten, and then pushed myself out, and got to my feet, henry in hand, and let out the loudest yell i could. I think i said something like “Knock it off! im armed! Fuck off!”
I was not in a good headspace. i was about as freaked out as i had ever been up to this point, and this was not all that long after the deer thing i mentioned in my other post. I was about ready to shit myself.
I looked around the back of my tent with my light and didnt see anything. Nobody. Just rain pissing down.
I walked around the front of my tarp. Nobody. I could clearly see into clearing until my light got swallowed up by the rain. I walked around the edge of my little camp, sticjing close to my tarps, and i didnt see anybody.
I wish i could say i checked out the treeline for foot steps, but i didnt. I tried to yell again and my voice was completely in my throat. Another rock hit my shelter and bounced off, squarely in the cone of my headlamp, and i wont lie to you all, i lost it.
I fired my henry into the dirt about 10 feet in front of me, and i heard some immediate rustling in the woods, uphill from me again. I yelled aome dumb panicked bullshit, and though fuck me if i know why, i ducked into my tarp again, wrapped up as much as i could and huddled up with my gun.
Eventually the storm broke, followed by dawn, and i got up to pack up my shit and get out of there. I was pretty shakey, and it took me a while to get my various gear all in hand and brought up to my shelter. I took a few moments to gather up the round river stones, and i noted i dint see any likw this even in the creek, and definitely none sitting around the ground, the debris is too thick.
my shelter was the farthest back thing in the woods of the various stations around the camp, except for my pack, which had a garbage bag over it. When i went around back the tarp to grab it, there were two more little sections of sapling, green wood, chewed lookin ends, barked stripped again, just like before, leaning against the trunk below it. Nope. Not ok. It took me a second to go get my pack. I was that freaked out, that i was now afraid of sticks. One my first night and two the second? Nope. Fuck that.
I finally got my self under control and went to grab my pack, and again, i had a powerful sense of being watched. I shook off the cover, packed it in a dry bag and turned around to get my stakes out of the ground and pick up my tarp.
There was a whole, very obviously dead rabbit on the back edge of my tarp. the rain had washed off any leakage that would have been on it, but the carcass was just splayed out there, like it had landed on it after being thrown and then slid down the slope of it. It was fresh enough it didnt stink. I wont paont you a pictire.
I was instantly and totally numb. Mental dial tone. I picked it up with a stick, dropped it on my swamped out fire pit, yanked my tarp out of the ground one stake at a time, balled it up, yanked my rainfly out of its lashings hard enough to rip it, grabbed the rest my shit, loosely shoved it all in my pack, put my henry so it hung in front of me and power walkes/jogged my way out of there until i couldnt any more and breathlessly walked the rest of the way to my car. I got in, drove about 20 minutes, and then had to pull over to throw up a few times and have a panic attack.
I have never been back there alone, and definitely not unarmed. Even then, i only went back in 2017. I still cant listen to that song without feeling sick.
I know, rationally that it was probably squatters or somebody up there fucking with me, but the same question keeps coming up: why didnt they need lights?