Camp Monsters - Mermaid of Moon Lake: Part 1

Episode Date: October 9, 2025

On a quiet night at Moon Lake, Utah, Dean and Oren spot a figure standing on the rocks at the lake’s furthest point—small, still, and shadowy against the water.Listen to Hopkinsville Goblins: Part 1Listen to REI’s Wild Ideas Worth Living podcast.This episode is sponsored by Altra. Shop amazing products by Altra in stores or at REI.com.     Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

REI Co-Op Studios That's a pile of stones. That's a pile of stones. A stump. A bag of something. A bag of bones, maybe. That can't be a person. Sitting there by the water's edge.

Motionless. Way out here where black pines spill thick off the mountain slopes and drown in the shores of this strange, still lake. That can't be a person. What would anyone be doing out here? Anyway, they would have turned around when they heard you thrashing through these woods. They wouldn't be just sitting there, so near, so still, staring away from you out over the glassy water, staring at nothing.

Staring through the strange flat light of this strange, cloudy day, out over this strange, still lake no that can't be a person hello they don't move they don't turn around so no that that can't be a person can't be a person wrapped in old dark dirty shapeless cloth the closer you get though the less less it looks like anything else. A stone shifts under your foot, loud in the stillness. But the figure doesn't turn to face you, doesn't move at all, and your throat begins to feel tight.

Why? The mountains grumble with thunder and the clouds above can't make up their mind, but you taste the coming storm. The air expects it. The first breath of wind ripples the surface of the lake and... Oh, or is that wind? Or are those ripples made by something in the water? Something just under the water.

Coming this way. Coming right toward the seated figure. A voice, high-pitched, crying or laughing. you can't tell which, sounds over your shoulder, close enough that when you turn to look, you know you should be able to see someone there. You should see something. Not just the wrinkled silver trunks of the pine trees,

crowding in, shouldering closer, hiding the cry behind them. The tops of those pines are whispering together, though you don't feel any breeze at all. You turn back to the figure by the lake, They aren't sitting still anymore. They've stood up, they've snuck close to you. They're standing right beside you, much too close.

And now you can see. The last thing you see is what should be their face. But... But... ...that can't be... That can't be a person. That must be... That must be the Camp Monsters podcast.

Come on in closer to the fire if you can. We had a nice sunny day today here on Moon Lake in Utah, but now night has crept down out of those Uinta mountains over there. They go all the way up to 13,000 feet, you know, all the way up into winterland. And this time of year, when the night creeps down from those crags, and the winter creeps down with it,

puts a bite in the air. a moon lake is like that a place in between between fall and winter between water and rock and sky where the tough black pines of the mountains straggle out and die in the grassy scrub of the high desert you smell that the pine the sage smells mix so strong and sweet here Do you know why? Because life is so hard. It's too dry here for the pines, it's too high and cold for the sage, so they all ooze out their sap blood trying to drown the bugs and pests that take advantage of their stress and weakness.

Their blood is what we're smelling. The sweet, sharp blood of the pine and the sage. Ha, ha, more pleasant just to smell the smell and to explain, isn't it? Well, we could just sit here all night, listen to the fire, and enjoy the smells and sounds of the cooling night. But before we go to sleep, I feel like I should warn you. Because there's something in this lake. something or some things

people call them the moon lake monsters or the moonies or the moon lake mermaids what they really are no one knows for sure well I'll tell you what I've heard there was an old woman who lived by this lake long ago when the lake was smaller

and life beside it It was even harder. This was no place back then for anyone to live alone. You know, those mountains up there. Today they're part of what's called the Uinta-Wasatch-Cash National Forest. And if hearing the names, Uwinta-Was-Sash-Cash conjures up

a mysterious feeling of loneliness somewhere between your belly and your spine, then you have good instincts. those are vast rugged mountains up there and the people and the creatures who called them home back then lived hard, wild, short lives yet there was this old woman living for years all alone in this place between unforgiving worlds

at a time when the mountains were full of every wild beast and man but of all the bandits and the desperation who hid in those hills back then. Not a man alive could be found who claimed to have ever bothered that old woman. The rumor was that you had to choose. You could bother her or you could stay alive. But you couldn't do both. All those hard, bad men.

They swore she had powers. They all agreed. there were things in this lake they said unnatural things and she had control over them so they left her alone stayed away from her left this whole valley alone when they could maybe maybe if that had gone on forever it'd be the end of the story people might still talk about the old woman of Moon Lake that you could still catch a glimpse of, late at night, sitting straight and still by the edge of the water. But the West was changing, and the changes weren't going to leave anyone alone.

The engineers and bureaucrats back east who planned and designed the Moon Lake Dam in the 1930s, they didn't know about the old woman. She didn't show up on land ownership records or anything like that. Oh, sure, sure. Once the first work cruise came out. out here and they started in on the project, some of them heard something from the locals about an old woman, some kind of a hermit that people said lived up the lake. Once the dam was finished and the lake level rose, she was going to find herself good and deep underwater. If she was real, somebody really ought to warn her. So the foreman of the crew sent somebody up lake, one of the workers, and the only boat they had with an outboard motor.

He went, up the lake, and the rest of the crew worked and waited, and after a few hours. That old engine quit on him, I knew it would, the boss said, when the man of the boat didn't return. And since the afternoon shadows were already creeping down, from the mountains, he ordered Oren and Dean to get into a rowboat and row up the lake, to find the man in the boat and tow them back before nightfall, if they could. But it was a long row. Moon Lake was really just a widened out section of the Lake Fork River, and it seemed like wherever Dean and Oren rode close to shore or out in the middle, they were fighting a current

the whole way. The sun crept lower and lower in the sky, and Orrin's hands began to ache against the oars, even through the thick calluses he'd earned with months of hard work on road gangs and building projects. No sign of the other boat yet, but their view up the lake would widen once they rounded this little point of land that they'd been rowing toward. They were finally just about even with it. Oran glanced over his shoulder to see how close they were. Hey, there's somebody, Orin said. There was someone standing on the rocks out at the very tip of the point. Someone small and dark. Orrin sat up a little higher to give the figure a wave, but something about changing his position knocked his oar out of its lock for a moment. He had

to turn and grab at it to keep it from going overboard. Dean stopped rowing and looked around at the point. Where? Dean asked. Right there, Orin said, seating his oar back in its lock. Right there on the point. He turned and looked again and... Now the point was empty.

They pulled even with it. They glided past. No one was standing there at all. There's the boat, anyway. Dean said into the side. islands. Sure enough, there was the other boat. A couple dozen yards down the far shore of the point. It was sitting empty in the water, a few strokes out from the rocky shore with its motor tilted up. Huh. Anchored? Dean asked. Must be. Orrin replied as they rode over to it,

though he couldn't see the anchor line. But a boat wouldn't sit that still in any lake unless it were are anchored. Oren was closest to it as they drifted over. Even as the ripples of their wake hit the empty boat, it didn't move from its spot. Oren leaned way out to give the other boat a shove so he'd get a better idea of how it was anchored there. He had to stretch.

You could just touch its hole with his fingernails. Careful, Dean murmured. as their own boat healed over. Just as Orrin got close enough to give the other boat a little push, he lost his balance. He pulled his outstretched hand back in and gripped the gunwomen,

the side of his own rowboat. And as he did that, his eyes shifted from the other boat into the dark water beneath it. The shore sloped off suddenly down there. Even so close to the bank, the lake bottom,

disappeared into darkness and floating in that darkness directly below the empty boat just below the surface. Orrin saw two pale hands and below them a little deeper down the pale shape of a face. Orrin croaked and he threw himself backward away from from the water, pushing himself back so hard that only his collision with Dean kept him from falling into the lake on the other side of the rowboat. As it was, they both nearly went in, and the boat leaned over so far that they shipped a good bit of water, and Dean had to shout out a string of choice curses before he and the boat settled down enough to hear the terrified words that were tumbling out of Oren. Once Dean grasped what Oren was telling him, they both looked cautiously down.

into the water and they rode slowly back and forth around the area looking I had to stop once to row after the other boat which had drifted now at surprising speed away from there out into the lake but they tied it securely to the back of their boat and they came back to the original spot peering and peering down into the water there's nothing down there nothing but cold empty darkness. After a while, Dean cleared his throat, cast a hand tentatively toward the shoreline.

Well, maybe he's on shore somewhere. That was maybe some fish or something you saw in the water. Their bellies look pale sometimes. Dean suggested quietly. And Orne didn't contradict him. He knew what he'd seen, but he just nodded and helped to row. A fear that he'd never known before

he'd begun to steal up on him. The fear that maybe he couldn't quite trust his own senses. They beached their boat and tied it to the stump of a pine, with the other boats still tied up behind it, floating on the lake. They called out for the missing man, and they listened for a response, but their shouts seemed to die prematurely in an air that was thick with... Well, Orne tried to tell himself it was just thick with an approaching storm.

The clouds above the mountains were black, threatening to blot out the very last of the evening's light. Hey, isn't that a cabin back there? Dean called from a little distance back in the bushes. motioning o'er and over to them and pointing deeper into the woods. Calling and crashing through the underbrush, they made their way to the little structure. Not much of a cabin. Just a thick, rough-hewn, shanty, stained black with age.

Night was falling fast, and they hadn't brought a flashlight or a lantern, but when no one responded to their calls, they pushed through the low, rude door and lit matches to inspectors. the building's interior. Nothing much in there, just a pile of boughs that might have been slept on and a small stone hearth that had known fire at some time past. It was hard to tell if anyone had been in the cabin recently. Orrin thought so, and Dean thought no, and they argued about it a little bit. Not that it made much difference, anyway. The missing man wasn't there. Dean pulled a note from his pocket that the foreman had written about the impending dam project, explaining how the water level

would rise. Orange stuck a twig through the note into a gap in the staves of the front door, pinning it there. Then they left that place. They headed back to the boats, still calling for the missing man as they went. But something was following them. Quietly at first, but growing louder and bolder as it came. It brushed through the needles of the drooping pine boughs, slapped the broader leaves of the underbrush aside, coming faster and faster, harder, they both heard it, and then it hit them.

The rain and wind of the black cloud storm that had finally decided to pelt down from the mountains. under the storm clouds it was full night the sudden wind whipped the lake into small fierce breakers that had to wait out the squall at least maybe even stay till morning should we head back to the cabin dean made himself heard over the noise of the storm oran looked up at those dark pine woods the thousand boughs waving the wet night wind he thought of Stumbling back through those trees. Back to that strange little cabin.

No, Orrin said. Old roof must leak. Probably drier out here. That was a lie, and they both knew it. The roof on the cabin had been solid enough to block out the last light of day. It would certainly keep out rain. But Dean quickly mumbled his agreement. The truth was that...

Neither of them wanted to go back to that cabin in the woods. It hadn't felt like a right place. Better to shiver here in the rain, or a little warmer, was Dean's idea to drag their boat up on the beach, then turn it over and shelter underneath. There wasn't much room, but it kept the rain off, and with the heavy blanket that they'd brought, it was almost cozy under there.

with a rumbling thunder and the roar of the rain pounding on the hull of the boat just above him Orrin was sure he wouldn't sleep but the long row on top of the day's hard work thought otherwise

he awoke to late night stillness the storm was over the thunder and the pounding rain were gone Orrne could hear the ripple of little lake waves on the rocky shore, occasional drip traps of leftover rain off the trees, the murmur of night creatures. And then he heard, then he heard the crying.

Soft, whimpered tears, quiet but distinct, like from a small child trying to hide it. Such an unexpected sound that his mind fumbled through other explanations. Could an otter make a noise like that? Or a loon? Or could he just be hearing things? He couldn't help but remember the incidents earlier that day. The figure on the point that wasn't really there,

the person or body or... whatever it was he thought he'd seen under the water. Those memories stopped Oren from reaching over and waking Dean up. No, before he did that, maybe he ought to... He ought to go and check things out for himself. So he rolled over to the edge of the overturned boat, and he was just about to crawl out from underneath when he heard the footsteps.

footsteps on the gravel by the shore. Footsteps coming from the same direction as the crying. Uh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h. Slow, steady. Getting closer? Orn couldn't tell, but he shrank back under the boat. And he reached over to where Dean was lying, and he... And he...

He... But the way... was no Dean. Dean wasn't there. The blanket on that side was warm but empty. And those footsteps kept branching, punching. Then they stopped. The gentle crying continued. Back in the brush, a rabbit screamed and Orrin couldn't make himself draw a breath. And then he heard a voice. It's all right. It's all right.

He was Dean. That was... That was Dean's voice. He was out there already, out there by where the crying was coming from. Orrin scrambled back to the edge of the boat, and he looked out. And this is what he saw. He saw the full moon, shining as bright as he'd ever seen it. he saw the pine standing still as a picture dusted silver by the moonlight he saw each pebble on the beach glowing ghostly pale colors that they never showed in the day

he saw dean the back of dean as his footsteps slowly crunched down to the shore and passed him beyond the shore line just a little ways out in the water he saw where the crying was coming from it was a girl a young girl ten eleven years maybe she was standing a little more than waist deep in the lake's frigid water clutching her shivering hands together in front of lips whose blue was the only color of moonlight loud. The moon fell full on her, disappearing in the wet black hair plastered down her shoulders, glinting in the tears that stood on the rim of her dark eyes wide open, glistening in the water that dripped from her, looking so cold, Orrin could feel it. And she shook and shivered and cried, and tried not to cry, and tried to plead something to Dean with her eyes.

eyes and Dean kept coming closer to her his feet were in the water now and he kept saying it's all right it's all right it's all right off to one side in the very corner of Orrin's vision he saw something in or something just under the water crossed the glowing trail of white light that the moon left across the lake as soon as he saw it he looked in that direction but whatever it was it already passed so that all that was left for orange to see was how large how incredibly large were the waves that had left on the glassy calm water the waves sped up and down the trail of moonlight making it break and dance whatever it made those waves must be enormous

whatever it made those waves must be moving very, very quickly. Whatever it made those waves must be heading right for the shore where Dean and the girl stood. Dean, look out! Orange screamed, and Dean whirled to look at him, and in the same instant there was an enormous, explosive movement right there at the shoreline, throwing water high into the air. And when it had finished, raining down in a solid sheet all over the lake and the land,

both Dean and the girl had disappeared. In their place was what looked like a hole torn in the night, a long, low, enormous mass of darkness, so complete, Orne couldn't have believed that anything was there if it hadn't been for the overwhelming feeling of living threat that emanated from it. It didn't glint in the moonlight like fur or slime would do. It was just darkness, pure darkness, except at one place near the front where Orrin thought he saw a sharp, half-round reflection like the moon might make in the lens of a huge, wide, black eye. And then, as Orrin watched, the huge black form began to slide slowly, backward into the water,

pulling rocks and stones tumbling along with it. It slid back and back and back until, with a slip of sound and a splash no bigger than a frog might make. It slid back into the water and was gone. But not the girl, though. Whether she'd been hidden behind the creature or it simply disappeared when it struck and reappeared now, suddenly she was there again. There, a little more than waist deep in the water, shivering and crying harder now, no longer able to hold back her tears.

And in spite of what had just happened, in spite of what he had. he'd just seen. The urge Orrin felt to go down there and help her was overwhelming. He felt it like a physical need. He even began to slide out from under the boat, but then she looked at him. The same look he'd seen her give Dean, but this time he understood. Don't, her look, her look said, don't. you can't help me save yourself so with a lump in his fear dry throat orrin huddled back beneath the overturned boat he wrapped the heavy blanket tighter around himself he stopped his ears against that sound of gentle crying and he thought about dean and he wondered how long it was until morning in fact morning was still very, very far away.

Oren realized that when, through his covered ears, he heard a curious sound. Louder than the crying, different, jarring, like a hundred dull axes thudding into thin, splintering the wood. Then there was a tremendous thrashing out in the lake, and then... Then the sound of rocks, pebbles, sliding.

and shifting. But this last sound came not from out there by the lake, but from just beside Orrin's head. It came from the rocks and the pebbles that the overturned bone was resting on. And all at once, Orin understood. He could see a picture of what was happening. That thing, that same dark creature that had taken a dean, it had hold of the second boat, the one still floating out there on the lake, the one that they tied to the back of this one. It had a hold of that second boat, and it was pulling it back out into the lake. And so the rope that held the two boats together was dragging this one, down the beach, toward the lake toward the creature. And as it dragged, the bow of his boat dug into the beach's pebbles

and piled them up, piled them so that already the thin space that Orrin had used to slip in here under the side of the boat was narrowing. In another instant, he'd be trapped here, trapped inside the boat with no escape. No escape until it pulled all the way down. into the water then he'd be able to dive and swim under the side of the boat and try to make it back to shore but with that thing in the lake out there he knew he wouldn't get far and it was just at that moment just at that critical moment when our senior producer Jenny Barber said hey Weston what if we try ending the first part of this story on a cliffhanger. You know? Yeah, like at a critical moment we cut away

and leave them wanting more, said our executive producers, Paulo Motila and Joe Crosby, speaking in perfect, disconcerting chorus, as they always do. That's when our sound designer Nick Patry chimed in. I don't care what you do, guys, but my contract says I got a 15-minute break right now. You want me to turn those campfire sounds back on while I'm gone? And so, we decided to end this episode right here. Please be sure to tune in next week for the second half of the story that we're calling The Mermaid of Moon Lake. Until then, I'm afraid we're going to leave you in suspense.

If you like these two-part episodes, please remember to leave a good review and say so. If you don't, come on. Don't leave a review like that. Just send an email to podcast at rai.com and let us know. After all, a little suspense never heard anybody. Before we go, we ought to remind you that the stories we tell here on Camp Monsters are just that. Stories. Sure, some of them are inspired by strange reports filed from the Moon Lake Dam Construction Project back in 1935.

But it's up to you to decide what could be real and what might have been. just a reflection of some moonshine. Thanks for listening. And thank you for spreading the word about camp monsters. You're the reason we've spent seven seasons on the air, and we thank you for it. See you next week, around the campfire. Oh, and good news.

I know a lot of you've been asking for it, and we've finally got some Camp Monsters merch. So be sure to click the link in the show notes and show your Camp Monsters' pride. Thank you. Thank you.