Camp Monsters - The Sea Ape

Episode Date: September 12, 2024

Sailing through the majestic waters of southeast Alaska, the crew spots something lurking in the water—like a seal, but not. What starts as a curious sighting soon becomes a chilling fight for survival.This episode is sponsored by Altra. Shop Altra's amazing gear in store or at REI.com. Take the Camp Monsters Listeners Survey.Artwork by Tyler Grobowsky.

REI Co-op Studios 1741 Pacific Ocean Position unknown Far North Pacific Ocean. Position unknown. Far north. I fear this will be my final entry. I'm sorry it's so hard to read. I scribble with soft lead in utter darkness,

and I dare not press hard lest I make a sound. The lights are all out, of course, as they have been the last three nights, but I don't think it'll make any difference. The thing is on board again. I'm hiding. I fear I may be the last one left. All the boats were launched. None have returned except... except a single man from the last boat who managed to swim back through the icy waters and survived just long enough to tell us... to tell us what had happened.

What the creature had done. He urged us to get away from here, to flee, but we had not enough healthy men to make sail. What more could we do? I feared it. A horrible scream just now.

Another hider like me discovered. It's coming. It must come for me. God preserve me. What does it want? I'm armed, but that does not seem to matter to it. I'll seal this note in the bottle and send it through the grate over the side as a warning to any literate

person who may find it. Deadly. Deadly peril. It's horrible. Whatever you do in these lonely northern waters, do not, do not, do not stop listening to the Camp Monsters Podcast. Testing, testing, testing, testing, testing, testing. Is this thing on? Testing, testing. Okay.

All right, yeah. I'm glad to see that this supposedly waterproof recorder really did survive the accidental dunking I gave it the other day. I'm good at some things, but I guess sea kayaking isn't one of them. Anyway, I'm all dried out, and so is this handy little recorder, and we're both back aboard our sturdy sailboat, ready to finish the last leg of our big Alaskan adventure. And while we sit at anchor here, waiting for the sun to set, I thought I'd record some notes and ideas for episode one, season... is this season six or season seven? Well, anyway, episode one of the 2024 season of Camp Monsters.

Okay, let's see. My notes here. All right, the creature we're focusing on in this episode is the Sea Ape. Okay, let's open with an intro in the voice of one of the members of Vitus Bering's Great Northern Expedition of 1741, aboard the ship St. Peter being hunted by the shadowy monstrosity of the Sea Ape. And then we'll leave the sailor's fate in the balance as we segue into the This is Camp Monsters stuff and the usual intro.

And then welcome everyone to the season and let them know that dreams do come true. And give a big thank you to REI for helping me make this solo sailing trip through the inside passage of southeast Alaska. It's been an incredible once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I'm so grateful, etc., etc., etc. And then we've got to give a huge thank you to our episode and expedition sponsor, Ultra. Let's see, I've scribbled up a draft for that

too. Ah, here it is. Okay, so we're going to set this up like the listener has come with me aboard this little sailing cruiser. And we're anchored in this beautiful Alaskan sunset. And then I'll say, and look at these other perks from REI. That's right, these extremely comfortable shoes I'm wearing are brand new Ultras.

But don't kick yourself for not recognizing them. Let me do the kicking, because it'll hurt a lot less thanks to the max cushion technology that makes these Ultras so smooth, soft, and light on the foot. And anyway, how could you recognize them? These are a pair of the all-new Ultra Forward Via which are officially launching this October 1st. So this is a real sneak preview. Get it? Sneak. Sneaker. Preview. No, that's okay. Sometimes the laugh comes later, once it's had time to really build.

And even if the puns are kind of weak around here, these Ultras are strong. Ultra helps you stay out there. With footwear options for hiking, walking, running long miles, or just all day comfort aboard this lovely little sail cruiser of ours. So check out all the great ultra footwear options at your local REI or on rei.com. Once we get back into cell phone range, I mean. Okay, and after that, we'll just settle into the story of the sea ape. Okay, let's see. We'll start by describing this southeast Alaskan setting where the sea ape has traditionally

appeared. And we'll try not to overdo it. I mean, words can't really capture all this anyway. Early autumn on the southeast Alaska coast. These islands black with pines and hazed in mist, dropping steeply down into frigid water that reflects the slate gray skies. Or when the sun sets just right, like it is now, lights the whole scene with a fiery orange, except those peaks towering in the distance. So far away that on their snowy slopes it's almost night.

The very last of the long evening just dobs the top of them with deep pink and red. But let me tell you, whatever the weather or the time of day, the one thing that never changes in these waters is the majestic isolation. Miles and miles and miles and miles and hours and hours and hours and days of feeling absolutely alone, beyond the reach of anything. A few boats distantly spotted inside of a single day means you must be in the busy waters around one of the tiny settlements that cling here and there to the steep shorelines. And when you get away from them, this huge world seems so completely empty, so completely your own that it's... Well, see, there I go, overdoing it.

We'll trim all that back and try to do justice to these lonely, epic Alaskan waters. Try to give the listeners just a taste of this sharp, sub-Arctic sea air. I can't get enough of it. I wish the rest of you could be with me just to see this sunset. Anyway, next we'll need to put our intro into context. You remember the sailor hiding aboard a ship from the terrible monster, the sea ape. So, we'll talk about the first encounter with the sea ape, outside of vague local legends, and how it was recorded by the famous naturalist Georg Steller

during Captain Vitus Baring's... Boy, they really knew how to name people back then, didn't they? Anyway, during Vitus Baring's famously ill-fated expedition to the Alaskan coast back in 1741. Well, it happened during a long Alaskan sunset, just like this one. There's a cry from the lookout, and by the time the expedition's naturalist, Georg Steller, was summoned to the deck, the crew was already gathered at the rail, pointing at a creature that was bobbing in the sea like a seal near the anchored ship. It was like a seal, but its thick brown fur ended suddenly at a pale, thin, naked neck with a face like a cross between a dog and

a monkey, and bare yellow hands with long, thin fingers that ended in short, vicious-looking talons. Well, that sounds a little intimidating, but apparently the creature itself didn't seem vicious. Not yet, anyway. It was curious, playful, friendly even. The sailors were throwing in hats and rope ends, flotsam from the deck, and the sea ape would seize each item as it hit the water and then examine it very seriously, with its brow furrowed over large, dark, dog-like eyes. And then it would play.

It would throw the bits of rope into the air and catch them again, or bang two scraps of wood together. It dove under the ship several times, reappearing on the other side. The sailors were delighted by it, and those who'd sailed in southern climes declared it must be a cousin of those tame apes and monkeys they'd seen in the faraway ports there. The crew enjoyed the creature so much there was even a murmur of discontent when Stellar ordered his musket loaded. I guess we maybe better explain what a naturalist was back then, what Georg Stellar's job consisted of. He joined the expedition in the interest of recording new plants and animals that were unknown to European science, primitive as it was. He did this by making drawings.

Most of his drawings have been lost, including his drawing of the sea ape. Making drawings and writing descriptions, and of course it was also vital to collect specimens. Plants were picked and dried, and animals killed and preserved. Steller was discovering new species nearly every day on this voyage, and the notes and descriptions he was collecting would be considered incomplete back in Europe without specimens to support them. And so, after observing the sea ape for a full half hour, Stellar ordered his musket. But the first shot missed the creature, and a muted sound rose

from the crew that they could certainly deny was a cheer for the miss. The sound of the shot startled the sea ape, but not as much as the crew might have hoped, because after a brief dive it surfaced again, staying low in the water this time, obviously cautious, but curious, too, about these men and their thunder. Well, you didn't get to be a naturalist in the 1740s without being able to make the most of the inaccurate weapons that you had. So holding his breath, squinting one eye down the long barrel against the glare of the setting sun, Stellar waited.

And when the sea ape craned itself up just a bit further out of the water, trying to see what the strange men were doing up there, Stellar pulled the trigger. Down flew the bulky hammer with its flint. He felt the sparks against his face as the pan ignited, and a long instant later the gun kicked against his shoulder with its awful, fiery roar. Stellar couldn't see through the recoil and the smoke what had happened, so like a true scientist he didn't record anything,

except to say that he failed to retrieve a specimen. But letters written by other crewmen and discovered long afterward attest that the shot grazed the sea ape in its pale neck, and that the blood which streamed from the wound was black as ink. The face of the creature, which prior to this had appeared friendly and curious, well, then it split open into a hideous, growling grimace, and from between long, pinkish fangs came a sound that the sailors would come to know all too well

in the dark nights of the long, vain voyage yet to come. A high, mournful, lonely sound it was, desolating, threatening. It sent a shiver up every back, though a man like Georg Steller would never admit to feeling any such thing. Then the creature dove beneath the waves, at the same instant that the last of the sun fell into the ocean, and from that day on, no one has ever seen the sea ape again. By day.

But at night... Well, maybe it was the sleepless, watchful nights that were at the root of the misery that began from that moment to seep into the hull of Baring and Stellar's ship, that poor old St. Peter. Because that very midnight, while strange howlings that may have been the wind kept the crew awake, a delegation of sailors came to Captain Baring's cabin by lantern light, and they stubbornly refused to sail another day down this misty coast.

Well, it might have been considered mutiny, but Baring didn't need much encouragement to agree with them, since he'd awoken that night with a chill at his heart, and he feared that something in this cold climb was sickening him. Over Georg Steller's protest about the knowledge to be gained, they turned the ship around, but something was opposed to them. The wind shifted, the weather turned bad, and it battered them all around the frigid sea that would later come to be named for their captain, Baring. They'd sight islands, and they'd send boats ashore that would return with the news that the rocks were entirely desolate,

without any promise of food or even fresh water. The crew began to suffer from a terrible, debilitating illness that Stellar put down as a variety of scurvy, but which the crew blamed on strange visitations that they insisted brought a fiendish presence aboard every night as soon as darkness fell. Of course, you can't watch all sides of a large ship all night. Gunports, portholes, hauser holes, scuppers, the gaps beneath the rail, a thing determined and agile enough will slip on board.

And the risk of fire aboard a wooden sailing ship pitching in storm-tossed northern waters was so great that the use of lanterns was really out of the question in most instances. So the passages below deck were black as death. And if something slick and cold and wet shoved past you as you felt your way along them, who could prove what it was? And if one of the sickest men then cried out in his sleep a few moments later,

no doubt it was just a bad dream. And if that man never woke from his nightmare, and a dim morning light showed bloodless wounds on his neck. Well, advanced cases of scurvy will, in the final stages, open old wounds long closed.

Perhaps that man had been mauled by a dog in his youth. Badly. Horribly. Horribly mauled. Well, horribly, horribly mauled. Anyway, this sickness and hard weather went on for weeks until there weren't enough healthy men left to work the ship properly. They anchored her as best they could in the lee of a desolate, undiscovered island. They gave the island their captain's name and his mortal remains,

as Vitus Baring had succumbed to the strange wasting disease, along with so many others of the crew. Some sailors tried to make a camp ashore, but their tents were raided so viciously at night by what Georg Steller stoutly insisted must be some large breed of arctic fox. Before long, the men fled back aboard the St. Peter. In desperation, small boats with the healthiest remaining men were sent to try to summon help. But they never returned, except for a single swimmer, who told such a tale that Stellar blamed hypothermic delirium and regretted the impression that the story made on the crew.

Those that still remained took to hiding in the nooks and crannies of the ship at night to protect themselves from the creature that they insisted scuttled aboard as soon as it got dark. Stellar complained that the sailors interpreted every nocturnal tap and groan of the working ship as the footsteps of the sea ape, the terrible monster that hunted them, and they were too terrified to rest. Finally, Stellar and the handful of remaining crew managed to adapt the very last ship's boat so that it had a small cabin they could lock themselves into each night to thwart the creature. You see, even Captain Baring's cabin aboard the St. Peter had portholes, but on this last little boat, the sailors built a cabin with only one port,

and that barred with thick iron. Stellar, of course, ridiculed this precaution, but he couldn't get the men aboard without agreeing to it. So the boat with the reinforced cabin was launched, and Stellar and his mates ventured one last time upon the stormy sea in search of salvation of one kind or another. And one night, when an exhausted Stellar was on watch, a rare, calm night it was, with the sea sleeping quietly beneath long, slow swells, Stellar was staring idly out that one iron-barred porthole. When he thought he saw something, low, long, dark, slip over the side of the boat and into the blackness at the bottom. He sat up straight. He rubbed the sleep from his

eyes. He leaned closer to the iron bars to see as much of the deck as he could. But there was nothing out there to see in the faint moonlight. He decided that exhaustion had got the better of him, and he decided that from then on... And then the sea ape thrust its face right up against the bars, with its long, clawed fingers slashing in, almost taking Stellar's eye out, as it tried desperately to wrench its way inside. The shock to Stellar's carefully scientific mind was really too much for him to bear. He sank into fever, and his notes after that point break from carefully scientific observations

into scrawls, much more human and vulnerable and hysterical even, indecipherable sometimes. He and the others made it back to civilization, just barely. Stellar even survived a few more years, but as a broken man, never healthy enough to make the long trip back to Europe. Part of the problem was that he always insisted on trying to go back over land. He would never dare to go to sea again. Since then, there have been a few reported sightings of the Sea Ape now and then, always in these lonely waters, usually by night, or at least late sunset.

And of course, every time a boat or crew member disappears in the vast, often dangerous Bering Sea, local lips will murmur of the sea ape. Of course, that's all a great story, but I think we can ascribe all of it to...

Hey. Oh, hey, look at that. Yeah, funny. Yeah, well now I can personally attest to the tricks that light can play at this time of evening. A seal just popped up, not 20 or 30 yards away, and in the last of this golden orange sunset it looks for all the world just like what Stella described. The way the light reflects off the fur of its face it looks naked pale and strange. Well there it goes diving back under the water and after all it it was just a seal of course. I've seen hundreds of them on this trip. They're so curious about the passing boats. It's just too easy for your own senses to trick you

out in the middle of all this loneliness. Especially when you're as tired as I am. I better turn in I'm going to sleep with the recorder beside me just in case I dream another idea or two about this story until then more tomorrow okay

thanks All right, all right. Okay, it's 1.23 in the morning, and I just woke up a minute ago. Isn't it my luck that the night right after I scare myself a little bit with that old sea ape legend, I've got a seal or sea lion or something that's managed to heave itself up on the deck, and it's moving around up there. It's funny the way it sounds down here coming through the ceiling. It must be a big seal the way the boat rocks when it moves, but you'd think it would make more noise.

As it is, I feel the boat rocking more than I hear anything, but when I do hear sounds, it sounds more like footsteps than anything else maybe could there be a person on board oh no we're so far from anywhere they would have needed a motor to get out here I've gotten so used to not hearing any other engines it would have woken me if they'd come close. But that sounds so much like footsteps. Maybe that's why I'm recording this. In case... I don't know. You just have to be ready for anything when you're this far from everyone. You've got to take care of yourself. If anyone finds this recording later floating in the water or something,

my name is Weston Davis, and... Hello? Hello? Who's up there? Hello? Hello? Who's up there? Hello? Hello? Maybe I'm just dreaming. Or it could have been a flock of birds.

My shouting scared them off. Nothing but silence up there now. The boat's lying steady, too, not shifting around like something's moving up there anymore. I'm going to try the door. No, no, you know, first I'll kneel up on the cabin table here so I can see out the little narrow windows around the top of the cabin that look out at the level of the deck. It's hard to see anything out there. There's a bit of a moon, but it's a misty night. Is that something moving by the stern? No.

No. It's nothing. It's just my crawling onto the table that set the boat rocking this time. Seems like... Seems like whatever it was is gone. Famous last words of this were... Camp Monsters episode, but...

There's nothing out there now. Nothing on the whole ship. I can see most of the deck through these windows. I'm going to go back to bed. Or, I guess I... I guess I should take a turn out on deck. Just to make sure everything is ship shape. Yeah. Yeah, I should do that.

It's foggier out here than it looked from inside. Nothing on top of the cabin. The only place I couldn't see out those windows. It's foggy enough out here that it drips off the rigging every time my step shakes the boat. Boy, I can't see very far over the water. The fog closes in so thick. But right up above, the moon's still peeking through. Everything seems fine out here. There's no sign of what it was that could have made those sounds. Even back here by the stern, by the black water. I almost thought I saw... Ouch!

Oof! What did I step on? I've got to clean this place up. I'm not in the habit of leaving things lying on the deck. Lying on the... Huh. That's nothing on the deck. It's the deck itself. Feels like the fiberglass here is torn up.

Like, uh... Well, I better turn on the flashlight, even if it costs me my night vision. Ah! It's so bright. Yeah. Yeah. Wow, look at that. The edge of the deck here is all ripped up. Like something strong has been gnawing or clawing at it. Deep gouges.

These definitely weren't here before. They weren't here when I went to bed. So something tonight. That thing I heard. What would do this? with a seal do that a sea lion I guess they could but I don't what was that funny when I heard that splash I clicked the light off like I didn't want to attract attention to myself. Like I didn't want something to...

find me. But this is silly. It was just a seal or something coming to the surface nearby in the dark. Sounded really nearby, almost like something pulling itself aboard. But didn't the boat rock too just then? No. Of course, I just jumped a bit. I shifted when I heard the sound. and that would have caused the rocking. Right? Well, anyway, I'll just keep the flashlight off,

and I'll let my night vision come back slowly while I get to the cabin by feel. I know every inch of this boat now. I can sail it blind, even. Sail it by touch. I can make my way to the cabin without something to shove past me just now Oh wet slimy big big big was that the door to the cabin I gotta find the light. I can't see anything. Was that the door to the cabin slamming shut? How?

What was... I've got the light now. I've got the light. Let's see. Okay, I've got... turn the light on now. There's nothing. Nothing by the cabin. But the door is closed. All right, I'm going to get it.

I'm going to make a run for it. Get inside. What? Door's locked. I would never lock... I never locked this door. What was that? Where'd it come from?

Did you... Is there something... Something aboard? What's that? Moving back there at the stern. What the? No! No!

No! I gotta make sure I gotta make the sugar I'm not gonna make it long I'm not gonna make it long. I'm not gonna make it long in this water. Cold. Help. Help! Help me! That face. The eyes are black. Just like the Oh, my face! The eyes are thin. Black.

Just like the... the story. Panicked, I jumped. I gotta swim. I gotta swim. Ah! Help! Just do it! Come on!

Unless... Unless... Unless it's here in the water... With me... Water, with me. Hey everybody, Nick Patry here, long time sound designer for Camp Monsters. It is not easy to say this, but I've done what I could to recover the recording you just heard, which was found washed ashore on the rocky coast of southeast Alaska, not far from where Weston's sail cruiser was found floating and derelict. I know he'd want this recording to be heard. He's a storyteller through and through, an entertainer.

And I know he wouldn't want his tale to just float away. He'd want his story to be heard by the camp monsters faithful. In the meantime, the search goes on. When we find Weston, and I'm sure we will, we will be back with more episodes this season. Until then, I find that it helps me to remember him as he was, and to remember like he always used to say, that the stories we tell here on Camp Monsters are just that, stories. And it's up to you to decide what's real and what's just a bit

of a tall tale washed up on the beach. Oh, and Weston had the foresight to pre-record the outro for this episode, so we'll play that for you now. Well, I guess we may have left you in some suspense about what may or may not have happened at the end of our story tonight. But don't worry. The currents are friendly where that ship was anchored. And the max cushion technology that's built into Altra footwear makes most models quite buoyant. And Altras are built to withstand the elements. Built to stay out there. So with a little luck, the all-new Altra Forward Vias that we know were on board, plus any other Altras that might have been there, like Altra's best-selling Lone Peak 8 and Escalante 4, or new releases, Experience Flow and Experience Wild, well, they'll just drift peacefully to shore over the next few days,

safe and sound and practically good as new. Of course, if you don't want shoes that have had a little bath, just head over to your local REI or online to REI.com to check out the full line of awesome, brand new ultra footwear that REI offers. Ultra. Run more. Effort less. Oh, oh. You were in suspense about what happened to the person in the story. Well, I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure the sea ape got him. But I could be wrong.

Next week, we'll... We'll be heading to beautiful New Mexico to investigate a very strange report of a... a phenomenon that seems harmless enough at first, but that some people claim is a warning from another dimension, a sign of impending doom. It's not a... not a creature exactly, but a... Does anyone else hear that?

Join us next week for the episode we're calling the Taos Home. Camp Monsters is part of the REI Podcast Network. The gruff but fair captain of our podcast ship is our senior producer, Hannah Boyd, whose childhood hero, coincidentally, was Vitus Baring. She had a big poster of him and everything. Our producer and first officer, Jenny Barber, is more of a Georg Steller fan. Who wouldn't be with a name like that? Engineer Nick Patry is our lookout.

Staring to the horizon with his steely, hawk-like eyes. Watching for the next best thing in sound effects. Our executive producers, Paola Motula and Joe Crosby, are the affable shipping magnates who fund our polar expeditions. We'll find that Northwest Passage this season, fellas, I promise. Meanwhile, lurking in the dark water over the side, writer and host Weston Davis most closely resembles a creature that hasn't been seen by human eyes in centuries. No, not the sea ape.

Stellar's sea cow. It's like a giant manatee, but smellier. Look it up. It's so good to start another season of Camp Monsters with you. Subscribe if you haven't already, and leave a nice review if you have the time. And one way or another, we'll see you next week.