Creepy experiences in the backcountry

[Yarak]

I do not want this thread to die out so I will add another creepy experience in the back country.
A good buddy and I were deer hunting a really awesome lease in the Texas Hill Country just West of Austin, Texas. It was really a beautiful place just off Barton Creek . We had been on this lease about three years. Probably around 1979-1980. We had a hillside we loved to sit on in the mornings looking to the West. There was a little rocky limestone canyon between us and the opposing hillside. In the bottom of the canyon was a wet weather creek and it was surrounded by a thick cover of Texas Cedars Trees and Live Oak Trees. We would sit on that hillside looking westward across a valley that slowly rose up and away to the neighboring hill top. We called it "Death Valley" because we had harvested so many deer in the early mornings while the deer were filtering back through the valley to their bedding areas. As the morning sun would rise tin the East the sunlight would slowly start to peak over the top of our hill over to the valley across from us. As the sun rose higher, it would slowly illuminate the hillside across and creep down the side of the opposing hillside lighting the whole place up as the sunlight crept down the valley . Anything over there was illuminated and anything over there had a hard time seeing us hidden in the brush on our side, as the sunlight would be directly in their eyes. So on this day it was close to the end of the season and we decide to go ahead a take a few deer. It was a slow morning and it was around 11:00 am before we shot two a piece. We tagged the deer, field dressed them and dragged them down below in the creek below where we would hang two of the deer in the cool cover of the thick Cedars while we packed the other two deer out. We tied the two deer up on a big 2 "diameter cedar limb we had previously used when doing this before. We ran the 2" limb run across two of the larger Cedar trees and pulled it up high into the trees . There are really no bears or wolves down in Texas and this area. We just wanted them up high enough to keep wandering feral dogs or coyotes off the deer. The heavy Cedar cover would help keep the meat cooled down. It was nightfall before we got back to retrieve the other two hanging deer. As we were approaching the deer that evening with our headlights coming up through the creek bed in the heavy cedars we heard the loud crashing sound of tree limbs in front of us followed by a incredibly loud and vicious heavy guttural ground shaking growl. I mean the ground literally shook and we stopped dead in our tracks. Every hair in my body went straight up and chills and goose bumps ran up my back and down both my arms! We threw our rifles up and in both said in unison" What in the hell is that!". We froze peering into the darkness as we heard more brush snapping as it came crashing nearer with another thunderous growl. It was all we could do to keep from running but we had no choice but to try to shoot this thing. It stopped out about 30 yards away. It had gleaming fiery red eyes and a chill went up both our spines. I am talking RED ASS DEMON EYES!. I told David to keep his light on its' eyes and I was going to shoot it. I had to turn my headlight off so that the glare from my headlight was not obstructing my vison through the my scope in the dark of the night. I had a TASCO 3x9 with a heavy post reticle in it. I cranked it to 3 power, place the point of that post right between the eyes and I pulled the trigger. David exclaimed with laughter " BOOM BOOM OUT GO THE LIGHTS!". We both had funny sense of relief and let out a stressful sigh and started up the trail to where the Fiery Red Eyes had been glowing. I racked another round in my rifle immediately. I turned on my headlight and we slowly walked up. NOTHING! NO BLOOD! TORN UP GROUND! THERE HAD BEEN NO NOISE AFTER THE SHOT RANG OUT! NO CRASHING BRUSH! A eerie feeling swept over us both and we went from relaxed and laughing to back on FULL BODY ALERT! As we scanned the area around us we could see about 10 yards ahead of us the two deer down on the ground and the 2 " cedar limb we had tied them up with was broken in half. Literally half of one of the whitetail does had been EATEN TO THE BONE! Half terrified and half too stupid to know better, we each grabbed a leg of other doe and left that other doe on the ground where it lay. We hurriedly got our asses out of the woods watching our back trail, terrified the whole way out of there. I am embarrassed to say that neither of us ever went back to that area down there in those Cedars again. Somethings are better left alone. David and I are still close friends and get together every few years. Whenever we get together, we always talk about the " Red Demon Eyes".

Your encounter sounds very similar to mine in that there was no sound of anything leaving the area
The yelling growling screaming so loud it shook the ground is very familiar
My encounter didnt allow me to see but hear this thing and I waited in the tree until complete daylight and nothing could be seen
The area was an oak thicket with heavy leaf litter so that anything moving would be heard....Nothing !!!

 

[Red Letters]

You know what goes good with creepy back country stories……paragraphs

 

[Still Hunter]

You know what goes good with creepy back country stories……paragraphs

NOTED

 

[Holeintheheadgang]

You know what goes good with creepy back country stories……paragraphs

To many want to be English majors.

 

[eddielasvegas]

You know what goes good with creepy back country stories……paragraphs

I was trying to think of a way to say that w/o being an azzhat. I read a few words when it was posted, I thought this is making my head hurt with its run-on, but such a good story needs punctuation. You done good @Red Letters

And kudos to @Still Hunter for updating his post.


Eddie

 

[Red Letters]

You know what goes good with creepy back country stories……paragraphs

To many want to be English majors.

Your eyes will be old one day.

 

[Pharmseller]

You know what goes good with creepy back country stories……paragraphs

To many want to be English majors.

It would be funnier if you used proper grammar.

Glass houses and all. And yes, I know that was a sentence fragment. And yes, I know I shouldn’t start a sentence with “and.”



P

 

[RockAndSage]

It would be funnier if you used proper grammar.

Glass houses and all. And yes, I know that was a sentence fragment. And yes, I know I shouldn’t start a sentence with “and.”



P

And...that is something up with which we will not put. ; )

 

[Pharmseller]

And...that is something up with which we will not put. ; )

Using punctuation marks as winks and smiley faces is gay.




P

 

[Gen273]

How about we get this thread back on track with more creepy stories?

If you guys want to discuss other things, start another thread; please don't hijack this one.

 

[tkhuntsman]

You know what goes good with creepy back country stories……paragraphs

Shoot I like them stories

 

[ripcurlksm]

Heres a few of my fav creepy stories from another gun forum i visit

Mineshaft

When I and my wife were quite a bit younger, we decided that we would spend the bicentennial outdoors. Yes, July of '76......we're old. We lived in Pueblo at the time, and decided to go hiking, fishing and camp along Lime Creek between Durango and Silverton. There wasn't anything other than brookies in the creek, but they were plentiful and fun to catch.

We left our car by the side of the road along Old Lime Creek Road about 5 miles in from the highway and packed in upstream along the creek with our shepherd, Rebel. It only took us about an hour to get to where we wanted to camp, a nice meadow beside the creek just before a slot canyon that required you to swim to get any further upstream. Either that or take a several mile detour.

We camped uneventfully that night, the third of July, enjoying the sounds of the rippling creek and nature all around us. It was such a nice night that we just slept out under the stars, didn't bother to pitch our little backpacking tent. A little cool, but we had the fire going and our lightweight 30 degree bags, so we were very comfortable.

The next day we had breakfast, packed up and we all swam our way up the creek to the next wide spot with a bit of bank in the canyon, only about 150 yards or so. Now Rebel was never one to turn down a chance to get wet, but we had to do quite a bit of coaxing to get him to follow us up the creek. We fished and splashed upstream a bit, and before we knew it it was lunchtime. We thought we'd fry up some of those brookies but we were in this slot canyon that terminated in a fairly deep pool with about a ten foot rocky waterfall at the end of it.

We decided that I would scale the waterfall and pull the dog and the packs up and then I'd help Maggie get up. It was fairly difficult, even with the help of an old cable left over from a mining operation that was hanging down the side wall of the canyon. It took a LOT of effort and though we finally made it, we looked back down that waterfall and wondered what the heck we were thinking. Rebel was none too happy about it either, and seemed to get more irritable by the minute. We found enough driftwood at the rocky top of the falls to get a fire started and get the fish fried up, but that was about it.

You know the uneasy feeling that several others have mentioned? It was like a switch turned on and we all of a sudden became aware of our surroundings. It grew like a cancer and I actually watched the hair on the back of Rebel's neck stand up. Maggie felt it too and we both noticed that it was getting dark FAST down in this canyon. First thought in my head was a cat, and I actually felt a bit better about that because I figured the cat would leave us be, between the fire and the dog. I told Maggie what I thought and she seemed to feel a bit better, too.

I did not want to get caught in the dark in the canyon, for a bunch of reasons, flash floods etc. I spied what looked like a mine shaft about 2 hundred feet above us, a heck of a steep climb, but it looked like our best bet. We pulled out our flashlights and by the time we reached it it was PITCH black. The dog was a mess by this point, whipping around in circles, whining, yelping and generally being a real pain in the butt. Maggie and I were drenched with sweat and immediately began to freeze. July in the mountains is a weird thing, I have seen blizzard conditions before, but this was like someone turned on the deep freeze.

We were at what looked like the start of a mine, it only went back about ten feet, but there was evidence of fires at the mouth, and they curiously looked fresh. I was too tired to think more about it, I knew we had to get out of our wet clothes, pitch the tent, and climb in our bags before we got serious hypothermia. That was NO fun, let me tell you, having to do all of that by the light of our rapidly dying flashlight. And there was NO firewood anywhere close.

I cursed myself several times for letting things get this far out of control. We finally got the tent pitched right there in the back of this little cave , buck naked as we had no dry clothes left. The sleeping bags were slightly damp too, even though we had stuffed them in plastic garbage bags before our swimming expedition up the canyon. WE FROZE!! It was miserable.

About 1 in the morning I called Rebel into the tent for a little heat. The dog seemed to have calmed down greatly, and with the added heat we drifted off. Sometime during the night I heard something that just about woke me, I was still in a haze, so I fell asleep again immediately. I woke up one other time, because I thought I heard Rebel yip a little bit, but again I was in and out. I put my hand out to pet his head and he licked my hand. I fell asleep again. Maggie later said she fell asleep the same time as I did but never woke up at all during the night.

I woke to the most horrible noise I have ever heard come out of a hundred pound woman. Just the most God-awful shrieks that I have ever heard. I never want to hear that again.

I opened my eyes just in time to see a man at the mouth of the shaft, silhouetted against the morning daylight, looking back at us with the most twisted evil grin I have ever seen on the face of another human. I scrambled to get free of my tightly zipped bag and the little tent while he just crouched there and grinned. When I was just about free, he disappeared. Now, we were granola crunchin' tree huggin' anti-gun nature freaks at the time, so the only thing I had of any consequence as a weapon was my camp knife. I found it after what seemed like hours of searching, but really was probably under a minute. I very cautiously made my way to the entrance, millimeters at a time. The guy was gone.

About that time Maggie started screaming and whimpering again so I rushed back to the back of the shaft. She had struggled out of the tent and was pointing at what used to be Rebel. His head was nearly severed, and the tent and the bags were ruined with the blood all over everything. She had blood all over her, so the first thing I did was make sure she was not injured. Then I checked myself. We were ok,it was all Rebel's blood.

We put on our still damp cold clothes from the night before and then we noticed that our boots were gone. We were in trouble. I had some paracord, so we tied some shirts and towels around our feet and climbed back down towards the creek. We left everything in the mine, except for the knife and some stuff that we shoved in our pockets. It took us 8 hours to get back down to the car, and we were like hamburger. Hands, feet, arms and legs scraped raw, bruised and bleeding. We jumped in, the car started right up thankfully and we left a dust cloud that blanketed the valley as we sped down the rough trail toward Durango.

We limped into the Sheriff's office and we looked like hell. We got our story out, my wife through tears and me talking waaay too fast. but finally got it all out. The deputy said that they would go out first thing in the morning and asked us to stay in town. We had no money for a hotel, so he let us stay in a cell after we showered and changed into prison jumpsuits.

We were there at the jail waiting when the "expedition" returned with the convoy of three trucks. I noticed that all the officers, who were quite wet and filthy, gave us dirty looks as they passed us, and the Deputy that we had talked to the day before herded us back to his office. Then came the interrogation. Turns out that some animal had spread the dog's remains all down the slide to the creek, and he said that there was nothing else there. No tent, no backpacks, nothing. He asked us if we had any drugs. I did not want to admit to him that we had some herb, so I denied it.

It was clear that we were fighting a losing battle. They had come to the conclusion that we were wandering out in the woods high on LSD while a mountain lion had gotten our dog. The bastard even made us change back into our filthy clothes and give back the jumpsuits right then. He told us that he had better never see us again. We left. Maggie was sobbing. I never have been back to Durango.

The thing that I still have nightmares about years later, and I have never mentioned this to Maggie, is....... the second time I woke up when I heard Rebel yelp, was that when his throat was cut?.......and if it was, was it the dog who licked my hand before I fell back asleep?

I still go out in the wilderness, never overnight, out well before dark, only with other people, and always with a big gun. I respect animals, but I fear people.

 

[ripcurlksm]

Wendigo

Back in the winter of 2001 my youngest son and I were on our way from Boise,Idaho to Medford, Oregon. We had taken a car trailer to his old place in Boise in order to haul his non-running Jeep to his new place in Medford. We hit an area of heavy snow in the southern Cascades around 2:00 a.m. It took 45 minutes or so to get down the mountain. We had, of course been drinking coffee to stay alert.

About 25 miles west of the pass it became obvious that the last few quarts of coffee had to be drained. We stopped at a wide spot in the road near a summer tourist haunt,deserted in winter. There is a gas station and ice cream joint on the west side of the road,closed this time of year,and no town or settlement within 30 miles. This is tall timber country, and unsettled.Across the road is a small parking area for the ice cream joint. It is paved and about 200 ft.wide and 80 ft.deep. I pulled in and as I stepped out with .45 on hip, it occurred to me in a flash that grabbing the 590 Mossy would be good.

As we walked to the far end of the area to be well off the road, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end. The area directly to our front was open with a depth of 50 yards and a width of 100 yards. The night was clear and cold, 8-10 inches of snow on the ground, and with a moon almost full, so we could see quite well. While standing and taking a leak, with son about 15 ft.to my right I saw, as if springing from the earth in front of us across the open area 10 or 12 creatures moving RAPIDLY back and forth in sort of a Thatch weave pattern. These things, not human men, were close to 7 ft.tall, thin, bipedal with long arms, medium length gray fur, and damned fast on their feet. I brought the shotgun up and slid the safety off, as son was drawing his .45.

I don't know if I can adequately explain the overwhelming feeling of menace,but here goes. I had been operating on pure instinct since I had stepped from the pickup,the rotten feeling hit me a split second before the things arrived, the feeling?, instinct?, was that we were prey, and subject to a very bad death, and to be slaughtered and eaten, not a logical process, gut feeling and massively overwhelming.

As they were moving about in front of us,more appeared and mixed among them,all the while running about fast in front of us. Son and I were backing toward the truck, I WOULD NOT present my back to them, and some of them peeled off right and left in an encirclement movement. They were rolling in fast from the sides now, I could smell and feel their presence. We got to the truck loaded on adrenaline and ready to kill, as we both knew we were in grave danger. We piled into the truck,locked doors. I had keys out and ready, as my butt neared the seat, I had the engine lit and trans. in gear and gas pedal mashed in one motion. Adrenaline is great stuff! As we fled, yes fled, something VERY close by let out a ululating scream of rage, and pain. I believe one or more of the group had gotten really close to us in their pursuit and I ran over the foot of one of them, yeah they were that close. We rolled onto the highway and I told son to watch the bed of the pickup as well as the trailer, he already was indexed to the rear with the shotgun. We hauled backside for at least 20 miles before the feeling of grave danger started to abate. The feeling that nailed both of us, as we discussed soon afterward, was one of being prey, and soon to be slaughtered and eaten. I am not easily led, and neither believe or disbelieve all the bigfoot, ghost and werewolf stuff, in fact I am skeptical. Son was speaking with a coworker about 6 months later who had grown up in Prospect, Oregon, about 30 miles south of Union Creek where the incident took place. He asked Jake if he had ever heard of any strange goings-on in the area. Jake went ashy white and pretty much retold the above tale. He says to avoid the place at night. A family friend, a 25 yr. retired cop not given to flights of fancy and an excellent observer, had a tale very similar from a year before. I told my wife of this event of course, she looked at me at the beginning as though I had developed a 3rd eyeball in the center of my forehead. That was from shock, she did believe me, but did not wish to hear any details. She said the tale gave her chills. Me too, as I write this, hair on back of neck and forearms is sticking up.

I have NOT gone back to explore, and would not without a large group of shotgun and flamethrower equipped men with me.

Son and I are both sane, sober persons, and not taken to hysteria. We were wide, VERY wide awake as things transpired. We saw and smelled what was there. As a sidebar neither of us heard footfalls from the creatures. They were silent until i hurt one as we were getting the Hell out of there.

To my knowledge, and I have researched, there is nothing that matches these creatures, unless one considers old legends and folk tales of were creatures. To conclude, I have to fall back on Elmer Keith's famous line, "Hell,I was there."

 

[ripcurlksm]

Guardian

All my life till i was 18 i lived in a town called Wells in north eastern Nevada. Small town population of a thousand, so all of my outdoor activities involved being outdoors. From when i was 13-15 i saved up enough to buy an HK91. My dad bought it for me for $2761.44. From then on it went everywhere i did in the woods. When i got my drivers license it meant that i could go roaming about. My 1972 Toyota Landcruiser with a Chevy 350 for the close stuff (it got 5 miles per gallon on a ten gallon tank ) or my 1972 Dodge W200 with a 36 and 20 gallon tank, so anything outside of line of sight i took the Dodge.

One weekend i decided to explore around the Ruby Marshes, and go into the Ruby Mountains around there, right around old Fort Ruby, a fort that was built in 1860 to serve as an outpost for the pony express etc. I went into the mountains north of it and checked out some pretty cool terrain and old minesites. When i was going down the road i noticed some overgrown tracks that went into a canyon and decided to make it into a nevada highway and follow them. I followed it for about five miles or so and the road got better. It was grated well and continued on except for the fact there was a tree about three feet in diameter blocking the road. Beyond that looked pretty cool so i decided to get out on foot and check it out. After the tree the road went straight about 100 yards then sharply rounded to the right, went about another hundred yards then hooked left going to a mining cabin and a windmill on the top of the ridge. The side after where it hooks right is limestone next to the road with the ridge a constant 100 yards or so from the road.

Because of how i was raised, and my new found fondness for my 91 i went everywhere in the hills on foot armed. I had my 91 slung on my chest and 5 mags in my cheap korean nylon bandolier. My USP 45 my dad bought for me was in the also cheap ACE brand dropleg holster. I parked my Dodge and set out past the tree. As soon as i crossed it it immediately seemed weird. Anyone who has been out in the woods knows that there is always noise. When i parked my truck you could hear the birds singing and cicadas and other bugs buzzing about. As soon as i crossed the tree in the road it was silence. I kept walking up and did not see any bugs or anything moving. As i went up i felt uneasy, as if something was watching me the entire time.

On the way up i noticed most of the pines on the hill were broken off about ten feet up or so and many of the limestone rocks had chunks missing like someone punched a hole in sheetrock. I made it up to the cabin and it was pretty messed up. Huge holes in the exterior, walls knocked down. Even for its age it was a lil too messed up. I checked it out and found nothing recent so i went to the windmill. In the windmill there was a hollow shaft going down that was filled with water. I went up the ridge to the shaft and it was intact like it was just ran the day before. Right above it there were four hug piles or rocks making a rectangle where within there were mounts made of rocks. When i passed the pile of rocks the wind kicked up and it got downright cold. I felt like i was being watched so i decided i should leave.

The whole time i was walking back to the truck i felt like something was watching me. Once i got back on the road i kept hearing something follow me on the ridgeline. WHen i moved it moved. I stopped it stopped. I thought i was maybe being imaginative until rocks would slide down from the ridge. As i rounded the bend i heard the steps on the ridge pick up and i decided its time to shoot. Whatever it was had dashed between the cedars to a lonely pine 20 yards in either direction from cover. i dumped all twenty rounds from my 91 onto the tree. Anyone who has shot an animal knows the difference between the thump on wood and thwack on an animal. I heard five or so thwacks at the end followed by a blood curdling yell. I dumped the empty mag on the ground and slapped a new one in and ran. I felt like the whole forest was coming down on me, i saw things move from trees from my side vision. I tried to jump across the tree and fell and rolled into my bumper. All of the sudden i could hear the birds and bugs. I got back up and looked behind the tree to see something resembling an upright wolf standing about 60 feet from me, behind the fallen tree. Its eyes were red in the daylight and when i looked at it for a moment i knew i should not be there and it said not to come back. I broke out of it and shot the mag in my 91 at it, most which i knew hit made no sound and it just turned towards me. I shot 5 rounds from my USP at it and saw it had no effect. Thats when i decided it was time to leave.

On the way back i made my 3 hour trip in into a 1 hour trip back. Once i got back into town no one believed me. A few weeks later i talked to a friend of mine that was an elder paiute indian and told him of what i had experienced. He asked me of where i went and i told him. He said i went into the sacred burial mounds that the Wendigo guarded.

This was the single most messed up experience i have ever had. Few i have told of it and i do not care if anyone believes me. All i know is it happened to me and it is what it is. Ill never go back there alone. After he told me it could not be killed and i saw what i did i won't either.

 

[ripcurlksm]

Skin Walker

I will re-post my story. I didn't call this thing a "chupacabra", an old Mexican fruit stand worker, field worker called it that after I told him my jeep was chased by a man in the area. he also told me they refused to work late in the area fields because they are not safe at night...they will work other fields in Oxnard and Ventura...but not Camarillo/Point Mugu area.

Just to better describe what my "skin walker" looked like. It was a man. about, 6 foot tall, red eyes, long wavy hair and thick straight haired beard short, but not clean cut, very muscular, pants (like jeans), no shirt..didn't notice the feet. the screams were like a crazy man screaming in anger...can't really describe that...it was loud and pissed off...lol

A buddy and I were driving home late from Point Mugu NWS, taking the back roads to the town of Camarillo.

There is a fork in the road with a mountain in the middle. Just before the mountain and fork there is a old bridge. As we are going over the bridge my buddy points up, (we are in a open top Jeep) about 50 feet up the side of the mountain is a shirtless guy climbing up. We can clearing see him in my brights, long hair and all. I have to slow down for the left fork turn, which is directly under the mountain side.

As I turn, the climber jumps off the mountain side screaming like a madman, he hits the back side of the jeep, but falls out and hits the road. I hit the brakes. I turn around and see him jump up and screaming like some werewolf insane madman, red eyes, hairy and differently not out of shape...he had seen some time in a gym.....I hit the gas and took off.

The "guy" is now chasing after us...(think of the part in Jurassic Park were the T-Rex is chasing the jeep). My buddy is yelling "Holy Crap...Holy Crap this guys crazy". I am doing close to 25-30MPH..and the guy is keeping up with me and is next to me grabbing at my seat. My buddy is out of his seat punching the guy..or at least trying to.

At about 45mph the guy can't keep up. We start to laugh and say we should have just stopped and kicked his backside. Then thought he was on PCP or something so we were probably better off not to mess with him, and neither of us wanted to get bitten by a werewolf on PCP.... The red eyes must have been reflections from the brake lights...We both clearly saw those eyes.

About that time, my buddy, points to the fields next to us..on our left....there is the guy running the same direction as we are going. We laugh and I look at the speedometer...55MPH. Wow that's insane I say. Then it hits me....he is running across the field to reach the 90 degree turn before we do...he will get there first and that corner is very tight.

I tell my buddy what I think he's doing. I have taken that turn at 30 in my Nova and lost the back end. I have no idea how fast I can do it in the Jeep. There are no side roads, houses..nothing but a fields.

"Dude, we fight him..stop the car and lets do this"
"Man I really don't want to kill someone...get it. That guy is crazy"
"crap, the turn is coming up..we got no weapons, the tire iron is locked behind the spare..we are in Dress Blues uniforms."
"screw it man, punch it and hope we get there first"

I had the jeep up to 75MPH, then I had to brake hard and I took the turn at 35MPH, the guy was maybe 30 feet behind us...he then just ran back into the field.

We both saw those same red eyes again....

We pulled into the Parking lot of the ventura sheriffs sub-station in Camarillo. We looked at each other and said...no way they are going to believe us.

Couple years later I pulled over at the fruit stand in the same area. I asked the guy if they ever picked strawberries at night..and told him a shorten story about a guy who chased my car. He looked at me without any emotion and said, "You are lucky the chupacabra didn't get you...those red eyes are a bad thing..we do not work these fields at night." I never told the guy about the red eyes....

 

[ripcurlksm]

Portal

Back in the mid 70s after I transferred from active USMC to USMCR and went to college, I was home for a summer because I couldn't find summer work near the college and got on at a job I had back in high school working for a local logger. Not all the tandems and tri-axle log trucks had Prentice loading booms, and the GMC I was driving was one without, so as I waited for the truck to get loaded at a staging yard at the start of some skidder trails, I walked off into the woods to ah, urinate and kill some time. I was walking along a game trail within sight of the loader, my truck, and the staging yard but still in the woods deep enough that I really couldn't make out any of the equipment behind me.

There are some pretty large conglomerate rock boulders in north central PA, as big as houses in some areas and on some hillsides. The game trail went between two such large conglomerate boulders, both were perhaps 10 or 12 ft tall, taller than a standard room ceiling. I walked past the boulders maybe eight or 10 yards and the temperature in the woods IMMEDIATELY felt like it dropped 20 degrees as I took two more steps. The hair stood up on my neck and my skin was a mess of goose bumps. There was a faint buzzing, crackling sound like arc welding, and an oily odor something like oil or coal burning, but no smoke that I could see. Maybe like when a fluorescent ballast gives out, but without the burning electrical smell. Hard to describe.

I slammed the brakes on right there, hair standing on edge, heart pounding, with the reptile part of my brain screaming, "RUN!" I took a couple sliding steps backward, listening to the faint buzzing / crackling noise that sounded a bit like an ongoing electrical short, or arc welding.

I was looking forward all around, through the 180 degrees of vision, and caught movement to the left of center, about 20-25 yards ahead at my 11 o'clock. The woods in that area was blurry, almost shimmering like heat off a car hood or blacktop in August, but the blurriness was a section of woods about 12-15 feet wide and maybe just as tall or taller, I'm guessing, in relation to the conglomerate rock boulders. I stood there for maybe 30 seconds, maybe five minutes, I don't know. The patch of woods at my 11 o'clock continued to waver and shimmer slightly, and the buzz and odor didn't let up. I knew I did NOT want to go near that spot of woods. There were no animal noises whatsover. I think I probably could have moved if I wanted to, but something deep within me said to hold fast.

After the 30 seconds (or five minutes) passed the buzz started to fade fairly noticeably, and the blurry shimmery effect seemed to fade with it. When the noise was gone, the woods at 11 o'clock looked just like the rest of the woods in front of me. The woods felt warmer. The gooseflesh feeling went away.

I backed up slowly till I got to the rocks, then backed past them before turning and walking quickly back to the staging yard. The loader operator had four or five more logs to load and I just climbed into the GMC's cab and sat behind the wheel. I wasn't there five seconds and I started to shake uncontrollably. I sat there shaking until the loader hit the horn, signalling me to pull ahead and chain up the load. I about fell out of the truck and started laying out the load chains, but concentrating on the work sorta got me straightened out and the shaking went away. I felt wasted, like after a 20 mile hike with a full ALICE pack, ammo load, two canteens, and M16A1.

I didn't say anything to anyone until about six or eight years ago when I was in a gun shop and some regulars were swapping hunting stories. One of the guys related a story that was identical to my experience. Different location in north central PA woods, but there was no doubt in my mind he saw the same thing I did. None of the guys razzed him, and I said "I saw that too, back in the summer of 1975." One of the other guys said his deceased father told him about seeing the same effect decades earlier.

 

[javihitter]

I have been reading this thread for over a year and have three pretty good stories to share so I registered. The first story isn't very creepy but has some creepy elements, I will post the other two later which are creepier. All three are Arizona stories.

My first solo camping hunt - Kaibab Forest archery deer - 1999

Day 0 - My partner cancels last minute, my little 98 tacoma is loaded, including my quad. Screw him, I am going hunting solo. I left about 10PM for an overnight drive to Kaibab from Phoenix, Dodged a big angus bull on the highway while crossing the reservation in the middle of the night.

Day 1 - Arrive in the hunting area south of Jacob lake about 5AM. it is really dark and all the places I camped as a kid are loaded with campers. Decided I needed a private spot that looked promising. drove around half asleep for three hours until I found a narrow road with brush that would scratch most trucks. I drive the dim road for a couple miles and saw no people or camps. I had 2 good bucks stop in the road in front of me but my bow was buried. i drive a little further and saw a good water hole with turkeys on it. Drove another half mile and the road ended at the rim of a small canyon. I backtracked a quarter mile and found my camp paradise.

I unloaded the quad and setup a small 2-man tent and canopy. I took a ride around on the quad and saw more turkeys and a couple more deer. Dug into my ice chest for some breakfast and found the lid had come off and the ice was melted since it was pushing 100 in Phoenix when I left. My lunch meat was warm and gross so I threw it in a bush near camp.

Had an uneventful first day and hit the sack. woke up in the middle of the night to dogs fighting around my tent, sticks and gravel hitting the nylon, Growling and yipping. I hunkered down in my sleeping bag and confirmed my 9mm was still under my pillow. The fight ended in seconds or minutes, it felt like a long time. I didn't sleep the rest of the night. Woke up to lunch meat wrappers and coyote tracks surrounding my tent in the morning. lesson learned.

Day 2 - Went for a walk in the morning and launched a cheap Walmart broadhead at an almost white squirrel sitting on a hardwood tree limb. I shot just underneath him and the broadhead exploded like a grenade burying the ferrule in the wood and fatally sending blade shrapnel into the squirrel. I killed the squirrel with a stomp from my foot. Crazy shot, crazy big white squirrel, Bummer there was no one to share it with. I decided this was proof of a magic camp.

Day 3 - Sat the water hole down the road in the morning and saw a bazillion turkeys. man I wish it was turkey season. Noticed the water hole had a tree stand over it with no one in it. more proof it must be pretty good.

I came back to the water hole about 3pm and sat in a homemade ground blind. I saw a couple does and some turkeys. Saw two hunters come in about 4pm and start acting like they were going to climb into the tree stand across the pond. I stood up and waved, they kept trying to climb into the tree. I yelled HELLO and they left. When I walked the road to camp I noticed someone pooped and left TP on the road next to the water hole. bastards.

Day 4 - Hunted in the morning and came back to camp for lunch. A guy stopped by camp and announced he was also solo hunting. The isolation seemed to really bother the guy and his uneasiness was unnerving to me a little. I told him about all the turkeys and he informed me it was archery turkey season and I could buy an over the counter tag at Jacob Lake. Sweet, maybe this dude isn't so bad. drove into town and bought some gas, ice and a turkey tag. hunted the afternoon and got back to camp for a late dinner.

While cooking soup on my tailgate in the dark I heard voices, "hey". I looked around and tried to dismiss it. I heard more voices and grabbed my handgun. A man and his son emerged from the darkness, they had gotten lost and had no flashlight. I passed their camp a couple miles up the road on the way in and gave them a ride back to their camp. They were thankful for the ride and that I didn't shoot them, I was too.

Day 5 - Got some shots at deer but flubbed them. I was really starting to appreciate the satisfaction of being out there pretty much alone. I came back to camp for lunch and the solo hunter drops by camp to chat with me again. This is my last full day and I let the guy know exactly what I saw and where I was seeing things. I thanked him for the turkey tag info. He seemed happier to have human interaction than hunt. Oh well, different strokes for different folks I guess. His nervousness still unnerved me a bit.

That night I nearly poked my eye out with a tree limb while taking a leak in the middle of the night. note to self, break off eye level tree limbs surrounding camp in the future.

Day 6 - I got an early hunt and had camp packed into my little truck by 10AM. I left Kaibab for the 6 hour drive back to the 100 degree temps in Phoenix. About 2 hours into the drive I stopped for a cold drink at the Indian trading post along 89a, it was one of the old ones probably built in the 40s or 50s. Like a gorgeous mirage there was a beautiful long haired blonde girl with a sign asking for a ride to flagstaff. I heard her talking to another person and she had a cool German like accent. I am single at the time and feeling triumphant after conquering nature solo for a week. I look at the crap stacked in my truck and wonder where in Gods name I will fit this goddess and her backpack. I make the fateful decision to proceed solo since I don't have room and I haven't had a proper shower in almost a week. The whole way home and the last 20 years I continue to wonder "what if".

So the moral to the story is to step out of your comfort zone. pickup the blonde, don't leave food around camp and check the regulations twice before every hunt. I have hunted and camped solo many times since but I have never seen another gorgeous hitchhiker. I am married with kids now so that option isn't what it used to be.

 

[khart_6882]

Heres a few of my fav creepy stories from another gun forum i visit

Mineshaft

When I and my wife were quite a bit younger, we decided that we would spend the bicentennial outdoors. Yes, July of '76......we're old. We lived in Pueblo at the time, and decided to go hiking, fishing and camp along Lime Creek between Durango and Silverton. There wasn't anything other than brookies in the creek, but they were plentiful and fun to catch.

We left our car by the side of the road along Old Lime Creek Road about 5 miles in from the highway and packed in upstream along the creek with our shepherd, Rebel. It only took us about an hour to get to where we wanted to camp, a nice meadow beside the creek just before a slot canyon that required you to swim to get any further upstream. Either that or take a several mile detour.

We camped uneventfully that night, the third of July, enjoying the sounds of the rippling creek and nature all around us. It was such a nice night that we just slept out under the stars, didn't bother to pitch our little backpacking tent. A little cool, but we had the fire going and our lightweight 30 degree bags, so we were very comfortable.

The next day we had breakfast, packed up and we all swam our way up the creek to the next wide spot with a bit of bank in the canyon, only about 150 yards or so. Now Rebel was never one to turn down a chance to get wet, but we had to do quite a bit of coaxing to get him to follow us up the creek. We fished and splashed upstream a bit, and before we knew it it was lunchtime. We thought we'd fry up some of those brookies but we were in this slot canyon that terminated in a fairly deep pool with about a ten foot rocky waterfall at the end of it.

We decided that I would scale the waterfall and pull the dog and the packs up and then I'd help Maggie get up. It was fairly difficult, even with the help of an old cable left over from a mining operation that was hanging down the side wall of the canyon. It took a LOT of effort and though we finally made it, we looked back down that waterfall and wondered what the heck we were thinking. Rebel was none too happy about it either, and seemed to get more irritable by the minute. We found enough driftwood at the rocky top of the falls to get a fire started and get the fish fried up, but that was about it.

You know the uneasy feeling that several others have mentioned? It was like a switch turned on and we all of a sudden became aware of our surroundings. It grew like a cancer and I actually watched the hair on the back of Rebel's neck stand up. Maggie felt it too and we both noticed that it was getting dark FAST down in this canyon. First thought in my head was a cat, and I actually felt a bit better about that because I figured the cat would leave us be, between the fire and the dog. I told Maggie what I thought and she seemed to feel a bit better, too.

I did not want to get caught in the dark in the canyon, for a bunch of reasons, flash floods etc. I spied what looked like a mine shaft about 2 hundred feet above us, a heck of a steep climb, but it looked like our best bet. We pulled out our flashlights and by the time we reached it it was PITCH black. The dog was a mess by this point, whipping around in circles, whining, yelping and generally being a real pain in the butt. Maggie and I were drenched with sweat and immediately began to freeze. July in the mountains is a weird thing, I have seen blizzard conditions before, but this was like someone turned on the deep freeze.

We were at what looked like the start of a mine, it only went back about ten feet, but there was evidence of fires at the mouth, and they curiously looked fresh. I was too tired to think more about it, I knew we had to get out of our wet clothes, pitch the tent, and climb in our bags before we got serious hypothermia. That was NO fun, let me tell you, having to do all of that by the light of our rapidly dying flashlight. And there was NO firewood anywhere close.

I cursed myself several times for letting things get this far out of control. We finally got the tent pitched right there in the back of this little cave , buck naked as we had no dry clothes left. The sleeping bags were slightly damp too, even though we had stuffed them in plastic garbage bags before our swimming expedition up the canyon. WE FROZE!! It was miserable.

About 1 in the morning I called Rebel into the tent for a little heat. The dog seemed to have calmed down greatly, and with the added heat we drifted off. Sometime during the night I heard something that just about woke me, I was still in a haze, so I fell asleep again immediately. I woke up one other time, because I thought I heard Rebel yip a little bit, but again I was in and out. I put my hand out to pet his head and he licked my hand. I fell asleep again. Maggie later said she fell asleep the same time as I did but never woke up at all during the night.

I woke to the most horrible noise I have ever heard come out of a hundred pound woman. Just the most God-awful shrieks that I have ever heard. I never want to hear that again.

I opened my eyes just in time to see a man at the mouth of the shaft, silhouetted against the morning daylight, looking back at us with the most twisted evil grin I have ever seen on the face of another human. I scrambled to get free of my tightly zipped bag and the little tent while he just crouched there and grinned. When I was just about free, he disappeared. Now, we were granola crunchin' tree huggin' anti-gun nature freaks at the time, so the only thing I had of any consequence as a weapon was my camp knife. I found it after what seemed like hours of searching, but really was probably under a minute. I very cautiously made my way to the entrance, millimeters at a time. The guy was gone.

About that time Maggie started screaming and whimpering again so I rushed back to the back of the shaft. She had struggled out of the tent and was pointing at what used to be Rebel. His head was nearly severed, and the tent and the bags were ruined with the blood all over everything. She had blood all over her, so the first thing I did was make sure she was not injured. Then I checked myself. We were ok,it was all Rebel's blood.

We put on our still damp cold clothes from the night before and then we noticed that our boots were gone. We were in trouble. I had some paracord, so we tied some shirts and towels around our feet and climbed back down towards the creek. We left everything in the mine, except for the knife and some stuff that we shoved in our pockets. It took us 8 hours to get back down to the car, and we were like hamburger. Hands, feet, arms and legs scraped raw, bruised and bleeding. We jumped in, the car started right up thankfully and we left a dust cloud that blanketed the valley as we sped down the rough trail toward Durango.

We limped into the Sheriff's office and we looked like hell. We got our story out, my wife through tears and me talking waaay too fast. but finally got it all out. The deputy said that they would go out first thing in the morning and asked us to stay in town. We had no money for a hotel, so he let us stay in a cell after we showered and changed into prison jumpsuits.

We were there at the jail waiting when the "expedition" returned with the convoy of three trucks. I noticed that all the officers, who were quite wet and filthy, gave us dirty looks as they passed us, and the Deputy that we had talked to the day before herded us back to his office. Then came the interrogation. Turns out that some animal had spread the dog's remains all down the slide to the creek, and he said that there was nothing else there. No tent, no backpacks, nothing. He asked us if we had any drugs. I did not want to admit to him that we had some herb, so I denied it.

It was clear that we were fighting a losing battle. They had come to the conclusion that we were wandering out in the woods high on LSD while a mountain lion had gotten our dog. The bastard even made us change back into our filthy clothes and give back the jumpsuits right then. He told us that he had better never see us again. We left. Maggie was sobbing. I never have been back to Durango.

The thing that I still have nightmares about years later, and I have never mentioned this to Maggie, is....... the second time I woke up when I heard Rebel yelp, was that when his throat was cut?.......and if it was, was it the dog who licked my hand before I fell back asleep?

I still go out in the wilderness, never overnight, out well before dark, only with other people, and always with a big gun. I respect animals, but I fear people.

Balls on a heifer! Is this chit real or some Stephen king short story?!


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[Pharmseller]

Note to self: do not hang out with ripcurl.

 

[Anschutz]

Note to self: do not hang out with ripcurl.

I think you're safe. He said he found them on other forums. On second thought, better stay away just in case.

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