I live in the American northwest, somewhat close to the Cascade Range. I have always adored any and all kinds of nature, but I have a particular love for the climate of this region. I moved here years ago, after spending a my ladder years as a teenager romanticizing the idea of living amongst the vast forests of snow tipped pines and hemlock.
I spend as much time as I can in nature. I can tell you what bird calls belong to which bird, which berries are edible and which ones aren’t, how to start a fire, and so forth. I make it a point to learn as much as I can about nature. I don’t say any of this to gloat or to brag about my knowledge. I’m telling you this because it’s relevant to what happened to me.
When I get full weeks off from my job, I spend at least part of the week alone, deep in a forest somewhere. A lot of people would call what I do “bushcraft,” but I like to call it enjoying nature. Having said that, after my most recent excursion, I’m not sure if I’ll ever go rough the wilds again. Not alone, at least.
I got a week off for Christmas and New Years, and after celebrating Christmas with my family, I had planned to spend four days in the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Close to the border of Canada. I’d been in this area before during a summer, and wanted to visit the same spot during the winter. So I had some vague familiarity with everything there.
Now, if you aren’t familiar with the hobby, bushcraft is essentially surviving by yourself in nature, far, far away from any campsites maintained by other people - and you usually bring a good array of man-made tools to help you. When you get to your site, you might dig up some earth, cut a few small trees, and gather up a lot of branches with leaves on them. All depending on your circumstances, of course - but the goal is to build a shelter with the materials you find in nature. And after that, just live out there for a few days before returning to the madness of society.
So for my trip, I packed an array of items, including a compass, a portable wood stove, a sleeping bag, many changes of clothes, a shovel, a few smaller hand tools including an axe for wood-chopping, and most importantly, a lot of matches and different types of fire starters packed in plastic baggies so they can’t get ruined by any moisture. Matches are one of the most important things you can bring to a survival trip. I packed multiple bags, and one small bag I’d keep in my personal pack on my person at all times. Just in case. I also brought some snow shoes, as I knew the terrain would be covered in a blanket of snow. There is a lot of other stuff I packed, too, but these are all the really important items.
The first day was pretty uneventful - I left from a campground pretty early in the morning, around 5 A.M. and walked west for what I think was between 5-10 miles - I’m not really sure how fast I was walking, but it couldn’t have been too brisk a pace because I had to don the snowshoes about halfway through the trip, which slowed me down considerably. But the trip was at least a couple hours, because the sun was still rising when I arrived at my destination. And before you get worried, there’s a very long road which runs into the campground from the south, and out of it roughly to the north. So as long as I just walk straight back east, I’d be able to find the campground pretty easily once I find the road.
Anyways, I started shoveling snow out of the way and making a clearing for my shelter. This involved shoveling a lot of soft earth and making a small indent on the ground, where eventually my sleeping area would exist under the comfort of a simple wooden roof. I spent much of the day gathering wood for the wood stove, branches with leaves on them for my roof, and… basically just getting a lot of wood. Close to sunset, I had very little left to do for my shelter. It wasn’t very big - just large enough that I could sit comfortably inside, and long enough to fit my sleeping bag and the wood stove. I built a little “porch,” too, which I planned to spend a lot of my time sitting in a lawn chair there, reading, drinking coffee, and thinking about god-knows-what. After I finished the shelter, I ate dinner, read a little bit inside the shelter, and went to sleep. Again, pretty uneventful.
I woke up well before sunrise the next morning and made some coffee. Then I donned some hefty winter clothing and just sat outside on the porch for a while, staring out into the twilit forest, with just my coffee and my thoughts. Above, I could just barely see the milky way against the violet blackness of space. And of course, millions of stars accompanying the image. I looked for a while and watched them dragged helplessly along their course through the sky.
I was lost in the beautiful image before me, until I heard… well, at that point, I didn’t really know what I had just heard. I almost thought it was two trees rubbing against each other in the wind, making that creaking noise… but the sound I heard was much more… organic? Like it was coming from a throat. On top of that, there was the presence of a kind of low-static humming which was intertwined with the creaking. Like what you’d hear from a T.V. tuned to a station with no broadcast, but a much lower tone. This is a poor description, because I don’t even know if my ears were built to hear such a thing.
My gut reaction was to just stay put and see if I could hear it again. The naturalist in me wanted to see if my ears could discern what kind of animal it came from upon hearing it another time. But then I thought it over… Aside from moose, or maybe some other small fauna, I couldn’t think of anything that would wander the snowy mountainside this time of year… let alone making any noises while the sun’s not up. Plus, I knew what all those animals sounded like. After having this thought, my instinct was telling me to get inside immediately. Not that my wooden shelter would’ve done much to protect me, but still. I darted inside, and didn’t even fold up my chair to bring it back in. I’ll be honest, the more I thought about it in those moments, the more it scared me.
Through the few small patches in my roof between the leaves, I continued watching the stars pass overhead until the sun came up. I didn’t hear the sound again that morning. Still, I was shaken up by it. I considered the notion of packing up and heading back that day. Something about it didn’t sit right with me. Ultimately, I convinced myself that it was indeed probably a semi-fallen tree rubbing against another tree, and that the static I heard was just the wind flowing through the pine needles far above. So I opted to stay.
In the afternoon, I put on my snowshoes and meandered around the area, telling myself I was looking for more wood to stock up for the wood stove, but what I was honestly doing was trying to find a tree that was leaning against another tree. Or some other indication of whatever made the otherworldly noise. I would walk one direction until there was no more space between my left arm and my body for more fallen branches, then bring the firewood back and find another direction.
After the fourth or fifth trip, something caught my eye. A vantablack figure, partly concealed behind the lower branches of a hemlock tree. In broad daylight, mind you. But what was standing there was definitely a person. Or, it had the shape of one, at least. Startled, partly by the abrupt presence of another person this far out in nature, and partly because of what happened that morning, I called out - partially to myself:
“Hey, what the fuck!?”
No response. My fight or flight was being triggered in that moment. Time slowed down. Still half-believing it to be a person, my gut reaction was to get closer and ask, probably aggressively, how they got out here. I tried to get a better look - it still just looked like a silhouette. But it looked like they had no heavy winter gear, and though I couldn’t see their feet or the bottom of their legs, the way they were standing made me think they didn’t have the gear to be walking through the heavy snow in this area. I almost started to feel bad for them and I hoped they were okay. Despite that, I was still deeply afraid of the image before me. All this in a split second. I took a step forward, which didn’t help me get a better look. The figure was largely still obscured behind the needle leaves of the tree. I yelled out,
“Hey!”
Again, no response. As I took another step forward, the figure was no longer there. I don’t remember if I blinked before it was gone, or if it simply disapparated before my eyes. I stood there in disbelief for a second, then approached the tree to investigate.
There was nobody behind it. And no footprints where the figure had clearly been standing. And, more amazingly, no footprints at all, except my own, anywhere. I’d thought maybe they ran off the moment I had blinked, or something to that effect. But no evidence of the thing was there at all. I thought for a second. Then, the events that had just occurred really hit me. I felt nothing but pure terror, despite the comforting warmth of the sun and the presence of light everywhere. The light made me feel watched. I actually wished it was night so I could sneak away out of sight.
But I dropped all the wood I’d gathered and hustled back to my shelter as fast as I could through the snow. On my way back, I considered walking back to the campground, but based on the position of the sun, I felt like I wouldn’t have time in the day to safely do so. The walk would take at least a couple hours. Then I’d have to hike another mile or so back to my car. I decided it would be best to hunker down for one more night, and then bolt the moment the sun came up.
Then, I heard the noise from this morning again. Louder and closer to me. It sounded similar to what I heard that morning, but more drawn out. At the end of it, I remember a fast breeze passing through, though breeze is hardly the right word for it because the air was hot. I still had no idea what to make of any of it, all I knew was that I was scared for my life. I wish I could tell you more but all I did at that point was continue walking back. What else could I do? The loud clamor occurring twice that day, and the figure behind the tree - I knew deep down that they were related somehow.
As I approached my shelter, I remember feeling dread at the very bottom of my stomach. Looking at the wooden structure from a distance, I couldn’t see anything outwardly wrong with it, but something inside of me was telling that the safety of the shelter was compromised. I walked for a couple more seconds before seeing that what was wrong was that all of the leaves on the roof were absent. All of the branches and twigs were still in place, but the leaves were not.
I stopped and looked around. A part of me was horrified at the prospect of seeing the figure anywhere near what was supposed to be my little safe space in nature. The other part of me was telling me to hurry up and get inside. There was nothing notable around, just the endless pine forest and sunlit snow. I looked back at the sky and considered again the prospect of leaving the forest right that moment. I weighed the idea of walking through the snow with no sunlight. I knew that I could probably make it back, but it was really risky. I was afraid that my mind would be too focused on whatever was out here with me, that I would lose the attention to my compass and get lost. In hindsight, none of this really sounds reasonable. I should’ve left that morning, after all. I’m just trying to convey what was going through my head.
So I opted to go inside and get the wood stove started, then go out and get more leaves to cover the roof back up. I walked down into the small living area and put some wood in the stove. The sun pierced through the roof, and I felt vulnerable. I reached into one of my bags to grab some matches to get the fire started. I knew exactly where I left them, so I didn’t look as I reached in. When my hand reached the pocket that one of the bags of matches was stored in, I felt something wet. When I pulled out the ziploc bag, it had been filled with a translucent liquid which had a deep-purple hue. It was very viscous.
I quickly looked for my other bags of matches and firestarters. They had all been drenched. I started to panic for a moment, but I remembered the small backup bag that I keep in my pouch. I never had to use them in the past, so they didn’t come to my thoughts immediately. But I reached in, and again, the bag was filled with the horrid sludge.
So I had no means of starting a fire. The recent snowfall meant that most of the wood was damp, and even though I knew how to start a fire without matches, I doubted that I could because I admittedly did not practice the skill as much as I should have, especially with the wood not being of optimal quality. I looked up through the grid roof of branches. The sun was halfway to the horizon. If I packed then and left, I’d only be walking in the dark for maybe an hour.
I really had no choice at that point. So I started packing as quickly as I could. I took the wood out of the wood stove and threw it on the ground outside and folded it up into its compact state. I rolled up my sleeping bag and tucked it into my large travel pack. Most of everything else was already packed as there had been no need to take any of it out.
I finished packing and decided to leave the bags of matches there in the shelter. The liquid inside must have been very dense because they added a lot of weight to my pack. I had thought about taking them home, but it was as if whenever I put one bag in my pack, I no longer had the strength to carry it on my back. I stepped outside, and I once again heard the dreaded yawn from deep in the forest, then I felt the warm breeze. The hot air pushed eastward quickly.
I didn’t notice at first, but I soon realized that none of the surrounding trees had any leaves on them. In the distance behind them, I could see that the pines still had their needles, but the ones in my immediate vicinity were stripped bare. The landscape looked as though there had been a forest fire. It was as though the bare pines themselves were a threat. Even still, I didn’t hesitate to start walking east immediately, passing under some of the trees.
With every step, I feared that I would look up and see the silhouette figure again. But I tried to keep most of my attention on my compass so I didn’t walk in the wrong direction. I also just wanted to stop thinking about everything that had happened. I didn’t even know what to make of the match bags. Or how I would explain any of it to my family when I got back. I wondered if I should even try telling them, or anyone. It all sounded so unreal.
I heard another of the noises followed again by an intensely hot breeze which pushed against my back. It was going the same direction that I was. It was at that point that I realized the snow in my path had melted enough to take off my snowshoes. So I did, and I picked up the pace. I continued to walk for what had to be 45 minutes or an hour. The sun was about to set. The path took me to a small incline, where I was able to look back and see the tops of the trees where I had been walking. In the distance, the sun hid behind a mountain, and the shadow of the mountain struck the landscape. I tried to look for the bare pines around the area I had stayed in. I looked hard, and it took me a few moments to locate them, but I did see them. It was difficult to tell from such a distance, but it seemed like the leafless trees formed a circle in the middle of the forest. I pondered that thought for a second, but something caught my eye above the discolored spot in the forest. I am sad to say that that is all I can tell you.
I wish I could describe what I saw, but all I know is that something was suddenly there on top of the dead trees. Whatever it was, had simultaneously been moving erratically, yet also kept itself very still. It was both moving and not. I tried to get a better look out of sheer curiosity, but something came over me and I immediately turned around and kept walking. It was as though my instincts and fear overrode my rational thinking in that moment, which was probably for the best. The further from the shelter I got, the better I felt.
The rest of the walk was uneventful after that. I reached the campground a little after sunset, and when I got to my car, it was around 5:30 pm. I made it home safely but I couldn’t make sense of anything that happened. While I was extremely unnerved, I never felt like I was ever in any actual danger. I’ve told some close friends about this, and they believe me, but they don’t really know what to tell me. It’s been half a year since this all happened, and I wanted to share this story here, if only to get input from others about the strange occurrences. Maybe someone knows of a reasonable explanation. I’ve been losing sleep thinking about it.
Sometimes as I’m drifting asleep, I’ll hear what is actually just some trees rubbing against each other, and a primal fear will surge through me. I also have dreams where I am stranded without equipment, and the vantablack figure from the forest stares at me. I still don’t know what to make of the purple sludge that invaded my match bags. A part of me wants to go back out to investigate, but I will definitely not be going alone if I do. Going back out this time of year would come with the risk of all the wildlife roaming about. But at the same time I think their presence would comfort me, knowing I’m not the only thing from this planet out there.
Anyways, thanks for reading this. If anyone has any ideas or explanations, let me know. I’d love to get past this and move on with my life.