National Park After Dark - 291: Trail Tales 67

Episode Date: April 10, 2025

Today’s stories include disrupting the natural order, shaming tourons, static ghosts, poop strap injuries, hauntings in Japan, Alaskan thank yous, pennies form heaven and cacti-microneedling Brazilian waxes. Outsiders Only bonus stories available for Patreon and Apple Subscribers!Listen to Watch Her Cook on Apple and Spotify!For the latest NPAD updates, group travel details, merch and more, follow us on npadpodcast.com and our socials at:Instagram: @nationalparkafterdarkTwitter/X: @npadpodcastTikTok: @nationalparkafterdarkSupport the show by becoming an Outsider and receive ad free listening, bonus content and more on Patreon or Apple Podcasts. Want to see our faces? Catch full episodes on our YouTube Page!Thank you to the week’s partners!3 Day Blinds: For their buy 1 get 1 50% off deal, head to 3DayBlinds.com/NPAD.Factor: Use our link and code npad50off to get 50% off your first box plus free shipping.Redacted: Declassified Mysteries: Follow 'Redacted: Declassified Mysteries' withLuke Lamana on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Monday AI agents took over my work. And I absolutely love it. Chasing deadlines, writing status reports, updating stakeholders. Agents handle the daily grind now. They live inside Monday.com. So they see the full picture, my work, my team, the whole company. And I don't have to worry about the data. It's safe, which means I'm free to focus on the big stuff,

knowing everything runs smoothly in the background. It's completely shifted the way we work. Create your own AI agent in minutes on Monday.com. Girl, winter is so last season. And now Springs got you looking at pictures of tank tops with hungry eyes. Your algorithm is feeding you cutoffs. You're thirsty for the sun on your shoulders. That perfect hang on the patio sundress.

Those sandals you can wear all day and all night. And you've had enough of shopping from your couch. Done hoping it looks anything like the picture when you tear up on that envelope. It's time for a little in-person spring treat. It's time for a trip to Ross. Work your magic. Hey everyone, welcome back to National Park After Dark. We're so excited to have you here today because we have a lot of fun stories for you. But we also have a really fun announcement that we've been announcing for days that we're going to tell you again because we're so excited about it. But yesterday, our new podcast launched. It did. Yeah. So in case you have been been away on vacation, you just didn't hear about it. You've been taking social media on socials, you know, which is totally understandable. Yeah, if this is the first time you're hearing it, Cassie and I have launched a second podcast, a sister podcast, to National Park After Dark, and it is called Watch Her Cook. Yes, and it's all about the incredible stories of women throughout history who have really broken the glass ceilings on the expectations of what women should be. And it's really fun because we dive into a lot of different topics from activists to inventors to criminal masterminds to whatever you can think of, women are behind the scenes.

scenes and have been on the scenes doing it for generations and we are highlighting those stories. So you can check it out wherever you listen to podcasts. We're also on Instagram, a watch her cook podcast. And you can check out us there as well. Yeah. All right. Let's get into our stories. Would you like to go first or would you like to go second? I'm feeling second today. Okay. I want to be a follower today. That's cool because the first title of mine is maybe nice or sad. Either way. I'm telling it first. Okay. Mine is titled Fly High Raccoon.

Sounds sad. Hi friends. My name is Sol. They, she, he pronouns. And I started listening to your podcast while living on a campground near Neidernand, Colorado, and the Roosevelt National Forest a few years back. Living so far away from the world with just my partner at the time, who I had only known for three months, brought a lot of anxieties, challenges, and insanely beautiful experiences.

Your podcast helped me stay grounded through learning. and I have so much gratitude for the empowerment and awareness you offer through storytelling. I now live in Denver, but my story takes place in Ellicottville, New York. Oh, wow. That is, I have family, and my kidney donor is up there. Oh, and that exact area? Yeah, same town. Cool.

Which they go into. Ellicottville is a beautiful, tiny little ski village in our south of Buffalo. This town is very well-known in western New York, and some of the Buffalo Bills even own vacation homes there. but the year-round community is very small and very tight-knit. Everything is located in a strip that's no more than a block in length. While living there, I worked full-time at the only official, quote-unquote, nightclub, and the only coffee shop in town.

I was very blessed to live in a beautiful 70s apartment right above the coffee shop in exchange for a small portion of my paycheck. Living here was a dream, but it was also a lot of work. One night after working a very hard week, full of doubles, I got home late when I realized my trash was very smelly from the lack of AC and intense humidity. I couldn't stand it, so I decided to throw my trash onto the balcony to deal with it in the morning. Now something that's important to note here is that the town is surrounded by so much wilderness that you have to lock up your trash to prevent bears or raccoons from getting into it.

I knew this and was so tired, I decided to face the consequences of something getting into it to avoid having to walk the trash all the way out. Bad on my part, I know, but hindsight is 2020. Sure enough, I woke up to a raccoon going through it, and we immediately started beefing. I yelled at it to leave. It's yelling at me to fuck off while destroying the trash. But after like 30 minutes of this, he backs down and leaves. In the morning, I went out to pick up the litter left on the balcony, and I died laughing at what I found.

I had a third job in Alicottville. I haven't mentioned yet. I was plant medicine salesperson. This brought me a lot of goodies, and I had completely forgotten that I had thrown away 1,000 milligram chocolate edibles a while back because it was left out too long, and I didn't trust it. Who needs 1,000 milligrams? That is so much. I'm a 2.5 milligram girl.

If you eat half of a 2.5 and I'm in another. world. Like 1,000 milligrams, I would leave this planet. I know people say you can't die of having too much THC, but I feel like I would die from that. I would be in patients. Or at least think that you were dying for a very long time. For comparison, the average edible gummy in the States where weed is legal is 10 to 25 milligrams, not 1,000. I know, like, you break it up into the squares and stuff, right?

But still, like, what is there? Like, 16 squares in a chocolate bar. Is it? Is it? Is it? Is it? That's a really big chocolate bar, actually, because I'm thinking, like, rows of four. It's, like, rows of two, right?

So there's, like, eight squares in a chocolate bar. I don't know. I feel like you're more well-versed in chocolate bars than me. But even so. I'm just picturing a chocolate bar. Yeah, but, like, hmm, let's see. So what did you say eight? 10, let's just say there's 10 because that's easy math. That would mean there was 100 milligrams in each square.

And being generous, even if they're 16, that's still over 62 milligrams per square. I bet. Yeah, I would die with 62. Never mind a thousand. Whatever, whatever the math comes out to, it's too much. Yeah. No one should be eating a thousand milligram chocolate at a bowl. That's crazy. So for comparison, the average edible gummy in the states where weed is legal is 10 to 25 milligrams, which makes way more sense. When I threw it out, there must have been like 800 milligrams left of the edible. The fact that there was 200 milligrams missing is also impressive. And there on the ground was the wrapper, carefully unwrapped with no chocolate left in it. No, little raccoon hands have been involved.

No. This raccoon's on ride. I ran downstairs to the coffee shop to tell my boss and coworkers this funny situation saying, quote, there's probably a really confused raccoon out there high out of his mind, not really fully believing it. My boss looked at me with a serious face and said, wait, was that the same raccoon that fell off the roof of the restaurant behind us? My boss was known for messing with people, so I immediately dismissed it saying, yeah, right. He responded by saying, No, I'm serious. They called the cops on it three times this morning because it didn't seem rabid, but they don't know what to do with it. And the cops have been joking that it's high and told people to just leave it alone. Now I'm realizing they might be right. He was taking a nap in the backyard last time I checked on him.

This is breaking my heart. Like at first it was funny and now I feel so bad because that little raccoon just doesn't know what is going on. It's happening to him. And falling off a roof is really sad. Three times. Three times. Yeah, why do you go back? I don't know. He's high. Because I got high. I couldn't believe it.

But of course, there he was. I'm instantly flooded with guilt. This poor little guy has no idea what's going on, and he's surrounded by humans checking on him while he's on this crazy ride. I've disrupted the natural order. We left him some food and water, and they agreed to watch over him while I went to work. Maybe no one else will notice, I think to myself as I get ready to head into the bar wrong i walk into work and the raccoon is the talk of the town to the point where the high school kids are telling me it was the school

topic of the day my co-workers and regulars are theorizing about it and meanwhile i'm hiding my secret behind nods and smiles everyone has a suspicion that the raccoon is on some sort of substance but no one knows how or why i work my whole shift hearing about it and afterwards head to the local dive bar to get a drink and decompress But I can't escape. Now the entire bar is talking about it too. I'm sitting in a group with my boys when the story reached our table via my dear friend Ham. When Ham finishes, I decide I can't take it anymore. Guys, I have to tell you something. I say, they all giggle already starting to connect the dots. I tell them exactly what I told you prior to this moment. And the entire bar, which consists of pretty much the entire town, breaks out into laughter and cheering for the confirmation that he will. was indeed stoned out of his mind. They knew he was in the backyard, which was only a couple steps away from the bar, so we all took a temporary trip to go visit him, and there he still was shaking. My heart shattered, and the people around me reassured me that he should be coming down soon. Still, though, it was a super uncomfortable yet silly situation. I'll attach videos of the

apartment and the raccoon so you can get a visual for the experience. From that day on, business was booming, and the raccoon stayed on my porch regularly, never looking for for more trash, but always keeping me company. A few months of this went by, but suddenly I noticed the raccoon had been missing for a few days. Right when I'm feeling hopeful that he went back to his home in the forest, one of my regulars at the coffee shop walks in and tells me she recently shot a raccoon. Not my little guy, it can't be. I barely finished the thought before she started explaining to me how she'd seen this raccoon hanging around town, specifically my porch, and was worried he was rabid, so she shot him and was going to turn him into a hat.

I understand why she did it, but I felt so much genuine grief for the little dude. I also feel a lot of guilt to this day because if I had just waited until the morning to take my trash out, he probably would have continued to live a happy life in the forest. Who knows what he experienced that day? I definitely altered his brain chemistry. As much as it makes for a great story, I do want to offer a reminder that this was an accident caused by pure laziness and exhaustion. I do not by any means condone feeding wildlife any substances or really any food in general. Locking up your trash if you live in an area like this or our camping is crucial to your safety and the safety of the other animals.

That being said, thank you for reading. I hope it keeps his memory alive. Smoke one up for the little guy, if that's your thing. While you enjoy the view, but just don't get the wildlife high. Soul. That was a lot in one. Yeah, I can't help but feel really bad for the raccoon, of course, because they lost their life at the end of the story. But I also do think that is a really good reminder for people about what the effects can have on feeding wildlife. And I mean, I would venture to say that this wasn't that raccoon's first trash incident. Trash incident and probably had been hanging around the neighborhood for much longer than this particular incident. But it is a good reminder that wildlife encroaching on people can sometimes result in someone shooting it because they're uncomfortable. with how close it is. So just to keep that in mind, not to feed the wildlife. Yeah. I don't know.

I don't know what's happening with me. I'm emotional, but that really got me. No. No. I like, we really, I mean, it is sad and we like raccoons. Their hands are so cute. You have a thing for animal hands. I do. I really do, especially if they're small. Okay, let's turn this around. Maybe. I don't know where this is going. This episode is brought to you by Prime. Obsession is in session. And this summer, Prime originals have everything you want. Steamy romances, irresistible love stories, and the book to screen favorites you've already read twice.

Off campus, L, every year after, the love hypothesis, Sterling Point, and more. Slow burns, second chances, chemistry you can feel through the screen. Your next obsession is waiting. Watch only on Prime. Okay, so my first story is titled A Haunted House, A Static Ghost, and a Crypted Walk into a Bar. Hello, Cassie and Danielle. I have been listening to your podcast for about three years now, and I am always so invested and excited in your content. I am still a pretty broke grad student, but I hope to be able to join one of your famous trips in the future. Love you guys and the energy and community you bring forth. Anyway, I love ghosts and hauntings and all things spooky.

Thank you, Danielle, for sharing this love. It makes me feel less alone. However, I had yet to encounter the paranormal until a year ago. In between semesters at school, I would live with my grandfather in rural Southern Michigan. His house is quite old and has always had an eerie demeanor to it. I personally took no issues with this as a spooky goth girl, but the energy was undeniably off. It's also worth noting that this house backs up into a pretty large forest that very commonly has families of deer leaping around. Important information for later. All right. Anyways, my grandpa would

often leave to go abroad as he was quite social, so I was in the home alone most of the time, which is when things would occur. The first time something strange happened, I was laying in bed doom scrolling on my phone when I had finally decided it was time to go to sleep. I went to turn off the lamp that emitted the only light source in the room and clicked it off. Maybe one or two seconds after the light turned off, I heard an incredibly loud bang and crash that shook the headboard slightly. I clicked the lamp back on to check for what made the noise, since it had clearly occurred in my room, and noticed the painting that was on the wall by the foot of the bed was gone. This painting had probably been on that specific wall since I was a toddler, as my grandpa doesn't rearrange much.

The pipes of the house were old, and thus banging of the walls was common, but it had never been strong enough to knock the painting down, much less a huge one like that. I went to the foot of the bed and looked down at the painting, lying perfectly face up and aligned completely parallel to the wall. I thought it was odd, but explained it away, thinking that it was just a super strong pipe. However, a couple days later, I ran into another odd occurrence. There were very clear footsteps coming from the floor above me. My grandpa was still out of town, so it wasn't him. They also sounded very clearly human, but nonetheless, I walked out into the hallway to make sure my grandpa's cock or spaniel wasn't the culprit. The dog was sleeping peacefully in his crate. Like the first victim in a horror movie, I decided to

investigate and went upstairs to the second floor bathroom, which was directly above my bedroom. Whether it be me or my grandpa or something else entirely, it was not uncommon for a drawer in the bathroom to be left open. But when I walked into that bathroom, there were four drawers open all the way out. I closed them gently and went back to bed. And side note here to interject, one of the scariest scenes of any movie to me was in the sixth sense when they like pan out of the kitchen really quick and there's a big lump bang and they pan right back into the kitchen and every single drawer and cabinet is open. And it's like that for some reason. I don't know if it was when I watch it like my age or what, but that has since that day, that is one of the scariest things I think could

happen to me if I saw let alone an apparition or something physically touching me just that particular type of thing is really frightening to me. It feels a little more menacing, I think. It doesn't feel like a nice haunting. It feels like I'm here. I'm doing this with the only purpose is to freak you out and to upset you and scare you versus I feel like an apparition or something breezing by you is just kind of a, it's like a byproduct. It's maybe not intentional. It's just it happened. Oh, Bumped to you. Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with you. Right. Versus this is very intentionally done to freak you out. Yeah, exactly. Another year passed and when I moved back in with my grandpa, I moved upstairs, aka where the drawers were all out. There was a room up there, a study slash hallway,

and of course, the bathroom. I'm an avid gamer, so I put my gaming set up in the bedroom. I would often spend late nights up gaming with my friends and talking on Discord, and I would often get a soft residual static noise in my headset. Sometimes it would get more intense and drown out the noise of whatever I was listening to and I would try to troubleshoot the problem, but it never did go away. But it wasn't just my hearing that it was affected. People I was talking to on Discord could hear the static too and remarked that it would sometimes overpower my voice. My friend came over to try and fix it since he built my PC and knew a lot about that and said nothing appeared to be wrong. But the static was always there. I've lumped all these paranormal experience together and called my little

friend the static ghost and she had never done anything to harm me so I thought maybe she was just lonely and wanted a friend. There were always little things off in the house like drawers or doors being opened but nothing huge has happened with her since. However, this is not just a haunted house story. Remember how I said the house backs up to a forest with lots of deer? One night I had let the dogs out back to use the bathroom before I went to bed for the night and saw the dog disappear a bit into the backyard. It was a cool summer night, so I went out and stood in the garden, both to enjoy the night breeze, but also to keep an eye on him. There was a whole herd of deer walking across the line between the forest and the grass. This was also common, and I didn't pay much

attention to them, but suddenly I heard a very faint but clear whisper of a woman saying, Maxine, which is not my name, but I still looked around to see where I had heard it. I thought I must be just sleepy, but it was odd how close and how clear it was. I looked for the dog and met the gaze of a handful of deer staring right at me. Deer staring at you is not uncommon, but I had never had all of them staring at me all at once, and that coupled with Maxine was a bit creepy. I called the dog and began walking back in, but he wasn't coming. I went upstairs to see if he went in through a different door, and sure enough, he was sitting on the front porch in front of the glass door, peering in. I let him in, but he was acting so odd and whining, not barking at all like he usually does.

He also never went to sleep with me, but he was now hanging around me like he was attached to me at the hip. I thought maybe something had spooked him, but he was creeping me out, so I didn't let him into the bed. But he sat outside of my door all night. Oh. Nothing else like that happened to me again, but it was definitely far more spooky to me than my static ghost. I love all the paranormal discussions on your podcast, and I find a connection to the dead to be a beautiful thing. Every time I hear a story about loved ones sending messages from beyond the grave, especially on trail tales, it makes me tear up. I love the idea that those we have loved remain intertwined with us forever.

Love is so real, and it is the driving force behind everything. Thank you so much for your wonderful show, and I can't wait to tune in for another year, sincerely Andy. Something's going on over there in that grandma's house. Yeah, there's definitely. something. The painting thing is weird and the static, I don't know, that's hard because it's like, could be anything. Technology is so complicated. Don't even get me started with tech. I've been going through it today. But yeah, so I don't know. That's like take or leave it. The drawers is weird. And I don't know, just all these little tiny things combined makes you think twice. Yeah. I don't know.

The drawers felt pretty big to me. That was kind of the moment where it's like, oh, something's definitely up here. That ain't the pipes, Andy. Yeah. It's like you got some ghosts there. All right. My next story is titled, That Time My Dad Stead Up for the Largest Tree on Earth. Hello, Danielle and Cassie.

My name is Mary. Like almost everyone else, I want to start by thanking you for creating such a wonderful space to hear stories about our beloved national parks in a way that feels like you're just kicking it with your gals. Y'all truly bring the nature and good vibes to my concrete jungle commute,

and it's much appreciated. I have thought about writing in many times because I had amazing nature-filled childhood with many potential trail tales thanks to my outdoorsy parents. But I have always been stopped by my inability to pick a story. However, I was recently inspired

by the final story in Trail 65 about a hero dad because I also have a hero dad story of my own of a completely different nature. My family visited Sequoia National Park back when I was old enough to remember a lot of what we did, but young enough that I have no idea how old I was in order to tell y'all, I'm guessing, around seven. We were hiking a trail that goes to some of the more famous sequoias

on a beautiful summer day, so the trails were busy with other tourists. Some of the older trees have short wooden barriers around them with signage, asking you not to cross the barrier because stepping on the ancient tree shallow root system can damage them. The particular tree that we were admiring when this story takes place happened to be the largest known living. tree on the planet. General Sherman, who is predicted to be at least 2,200 years old. This is cool, Daniel, and I have both stood right there as well. While I was craning my neck to see General Sherman's top, I heard my dad suddenly go, hey, in a raised voice that I had rarely heard from him. My hey, I don't think. Yeah, you got to be like, hey, hurt. There you go. Put your chest in it. You're like, hey, um,

Hey, excuse me. I whipped my head down to see what had to cause this uncharacteristic outburst from my typically peace-loving father and saw a family of four unceremoniously crossing the squat-wooded barrier around General Sherman and walking right up to the base of it to take a family photo. There were obvious signs all around the trails explaining the importance of the barriers, so these people clearly just didn't respect the rules. and my dad was not having it. He immediately started calling the parents of this family out for not respecting the trees. The dad of the family of the Toron's talked back initially, saying something about how one picture wouldn't hurt, but my dad held firm that if everyone bent the rules,

this beautiful tree would surely suffer. It took a few other park visitors joining in on shaming the Toron family for them to finally relinquish and cross back onto the approved trail. They did not get their precious family. family picture and were hopefully too ashamed by the public confrontation to try to pull that stunt again. I remember being so proud that my dad was the one to stand up to these jokers and put them in their place. But he is such a gentle soul. He actually apologized to us in our camper that night for raising his voice like that. Of course, my older brother and I both thought he was a

total badass for protecting General Sherman and still talk fondly about how proud we were that day. If this makes it on the pod, I hope everyone listening remembers to enjoy the view and Watch out for people we're shaming if they're not being good stewards of our national parks. Love, Mary. Oh, it's cool to see your loved ones, like, stand up for things, especially if it's added character. To be like, oh, didn't know it. You had it in you, but that's cool. Yeah, it is really cool.

And also just such a good example to set for kids, too. Like, I'm not afraid to stand up for something that's clearly not right. And I brought my family here so they could experience this treasure. And I want other future families to be able to, too. So we're not going to let that slide. Yeah. Not on his watch. Not on his watch.

Okay, my second story is titled, Never Hug a Cactus. Good advice. Right off the back. Noted. Great. This is a trail tale that took me years to finally find humor in. After it happened, I didn't tell a soul. I don't know if it was the sheer absurdity of the incident, or if I was too shy to admit that something

horrible happen to my lady bits while in the middle of one of the largest and most remote national parks. I've been hiking in Big Bend National Park since I was a toddler. It's been one of my family's favorite parks growing up and one I take my own family to every chance I get. I have so many spooky stories about this park due to the fact that it is so remote and I love going into the backcountry, especially to get to even more remote areas. This story happened in one of those locations. There's an old, quick silver mine that is really fun to explore, but it is is way off the beaten path. It's down a few of those unimproved roads that require a high clearance four-wheel-drive vehicle and a strong sports bra to locate. I was out at the mine with my dad a few

years back on one of those trips where it was just the two of us out exploring. To access the mine itself, there's a fairly long walk up the side of a small mountain. I was running all over the place, taking photographs to use as source material for future oil paintings. My dad was obsessed with the mine itself, so he hiked up there to explore while I stayed down by the old miners stacked stone houses to take photos. The stone houses were in ruins, but one in particular had the frame of one of its windows still intact. I was centering my shot in the camera so that the ridge line of the mountains could be seen through that window. So there I was camera viewfinder up to my eye trying to line up that ridge line with this window, and I just wasn't getting it right. I backed up a few

steps and squatted down a bit to get the shot I wanted. Did you know that the Chihuahuan Desert has a quarter of the world's cacti species? Well, I had just become intimately acquainted with one of those species, the paddle cactus, which can grow quite large in this desert. Yep, I sat directly on a cactus trying to frame that shot. I really don't know how I was able to back up and squat directly over a cactus, but that's apparently what I did. So my lady bits came in direct contact with the top of this cacti. And let me tell you, genes do nothing in the way of preventing cactus injuries. Those long, sharp spines shot straight through my jeans. And what was infinitely worse, those tiny hair-like needles called glocids, glocids, were embedded not only in my jeans, but my undies and my hoo-ha.

I can't describe to you the pain I was in. And I didn't know what the hell to do about it. I hoppled over to the corner of the stone house and was able to locate a few of the larger spines and get them out easily, albeit painfully. But the smaller spines were embedded in my skin and caught on the fibers of my jeans. I had to take off my jeans in the corner of this happed hoppled over stone shack and try to get them out. I knew I didn't have long before my dad came down from the mine. So I got as many out as I could. The removal of my undies felt like a cross between Velcro and a human pin cushion, but I was able to get them physically off.

I spent probably 20 minutes down there giving myself the most thorough pelvic exam that I had had to date. But there were just too many spines to remove. And here's where the real horror story began. I couldn't see the gloats. They were there, but I couldn't physically see them because they were so small and so sharp and embedded in my skin. Oh my gosh, this is a horror story. I did have tweezers on me because this is my park. and I come prepared for cacti, but the tweezers couldn't even find these tiny guys.

There was absolutely nothing I could do about them. I was still trying to dig them out of my jeans when I heard my dad coming back. I was now out of time. I put my jeans back on and started the long walk back to the car to meet my dad. The walk was excruciating. Sitting in the car was excruciating. I didn't say anything because what would I say? My dad isn't one of those guys you can talk freely to, so I knew I was going to be suffering in

silence. Also, did I mention this was deep inside the interior of the park on washboard roads with large rocks and washed out sections? Normally, I love a good bumpy road, but not in the condition I was in. It was the most painful three hours of my life. Three hours. Oh, she repeats it. Three period. Hours, period. Every bump felt like someone hit me with a spike covered hammer. It was like getting a dozen shots every few seconds for three hours. I faked a stomach ache when asked what was up, and I just suffered through it. When we got back to our lodging, I walked to the gas station and purchased some duct tape. This was the only thing I knew that would remove those baby fine cactus needles. The duct tape removal scene is something I will never describe in detail. After this incident,

I make sure to have a bit of duct tape in my pack whenever I'm hiking, and I recommend that you do the same. End of story. That was the scariest story that's ever been told on Trail Tales. I just, it's kind of like a cactus Brazilian wax. Oh, my God. Which, I don't know. I feel like. I feel like it's microneedling versus a wax.

The duct tapeers, though, like trying to like, rip the. Well, I guess it is. It's a cross between. It's a microneedling. how do we say this? It's a microneedling Brazilian wax, but we have to wear cactus in there somehow. You know how you can get like vampire facials? It's like a cactus microneedling. A cacti microneedling Brazilian wax.

Yeah. Yes. People pay big money for that, so you got it for free. Yeah. Yeah. Just think about that. Let's spin it a little bit. Yeah. But there is something, like, Like the big ones, I'm sure did, were painful. But like they said, like you can just rip them out. It's like a splinter. Like, I just imagine like hundreds of splinters, but in one of your most sensitive areas. You must have really sat on it. You didn't gingerly. You just like, really like, yeah. Plop down there. Yeah. Okay.

Man, I feel for you. My vagina hurts for you. Yeah. Add it to the 10 essentials. Yeah. It's the 11th. I'll never look at duct tape the same again. Yeah, thank you. I mean, like, I know what you're capable of.

Yeah, you could be my savior. Yeah. All right, my next story is titled The Poop Strap. Hi, my name is Micah. I'm from Akron, Ohio, and I'm 25 years old. I absolutely love your podcast and really hope this story gets shared because I think it's pretty hilarious. My family and I are huge hikers, campers and backpackers, you name it.

Every year, all seven of us, the uncles and cousins, head out for backpacking trip in both the spring and fall. It's a tradition we love, giving us a chance to step away from all the craziness of life, ditch our phones, and reconnect with nature and each other. Somehow, after many trips, we've managed to stay safe. No major injuries, no disasters. That is, until our spring trip in 2024. Because of everyone's schedules, we had to go in mid-March, and we decided on Spruce Nob in West Virginia. The plan was to hike from the peak down to the river and back. Simple enough, right? Well, not always the case, unfortunately. Some background, I'm a pretty creative person, sometimes a little too creative for my own good. So in the weeks leading up to the trip, I started brainstorming something I could make or bring to improve my experience. Almost immediately, my mind went to one of the

least enjoyable parts of backpacking using the bathroom in the woods. Personally, squatting to take a deuce is not my favorite activity. There had to be a better way. After some research, I discovered that hunters will sometimes strap themselves to a tree using gravity to create a seated position, basically mimicking the comfort of a toilet in the middle of the woods. I was sold on that idea. Now, I just had to figure out how to make it work. Not long after, I grabbed a carabiner and my hammock strap, then enlisted my wife to help test it out. She acted as the quote-unquote tree, while I wrapped the strap around her,

clip myself in, and proudly demonstrated my genius. I expected her to be impressed. She was not. She immediately told me it was unnecessary, and a terrible idea. But she also knows me well enough to understand that, no matter what she said, I was absolutely going to test it out on a real tree

once the trip rolled around. There birthed the new invention I call the poop strap. A couple of days later, the trip finally arrived. We pulled into the top parking lot of spruce knob, greeted by 30 mile per hour wind gusts, 25 degree temperatures, and a thick layer of mist and fog. Not exactly an ideal start, but we were here, so we were committed. About three miles in, we took a break at an opening in the trees. Since we had arrived late, we decided to just set up camp and call it a day. Everyone got to work pitching tents, unpacking here, and starting the fire. But all I could think about was my ingenious poopstrap invention that I needed to test out. So while everyone else was being responsible, I grabbed my setup and wandered off to find the perfect tree. I strapped myself in, sat back, and success. It worked. I called out to my cousin, bragging about how my wife had told me this was a dumb idea, but here I was, proving her so wrong. I couldn't wait to rub it in when I got home. That night, the

The temperature dropped to 12 degrees. We woke up to our sleeping bags covered in frost, completely miserable. The ground was frozen solid, hard as a rock, and incredibly slippery. Then nature called. While my family huddled around the fire, I trudged deep into the pines in search of the perfect tree. After some scouting, I found it, strapped myself in, and started to pull my pants down. Slip! My feet lost traction, and I fell hard onto my back.

Disappointed, but still laughing to myself, because I knew that. this invention could work. I went to push myself up, only to freeze when I saw my hand. My pinky was not where it was supposed to be. A deep one inch gash cut across my hand. For a second, I thought, there's no way this is real. I only fell two feet. But the pain hit fast and I realized this was very, very real. Panicked, I yanked my pants back up and sprinted back towards camp, frantically yelling, my hand, my hand. I burst into camp, panting and frantic. My family, seeing my panic, immediately assumed I had somehow managed to get poop on my hand. They laughed. Hard. But their faces quickly changed when they saw what had actually happened. The laughter turned into grimaces as they scrambled to pull out

cotton balls and tape patching me up as fast as they could. Meanwhile, I felt fuzzy, still trying to process what had just happened. How did I manage to injure myself this badly, just trying to take a crap. Once they got me somewhat patched up, we knew we had to get to a hospital ASAP for stitches. What followed was probably the fastest-paced hike we had ever done, especially with my adrenaline pumping. Of course, my cousins and brothers took this as the perfect opportunity to roast me the entire way back. In an effort to lighten the mood, they started calling me a four-finger freak and complaining about how inconvenient it was that I had cut the trip short. And trust me, I have never heard the end of it. Every single family gathering, the story gets brought up.

Finally, we made it back to the car and happened to run into a doctor and six EMTs who had just finished their hike. They reassured me that I would be okay, rebandaged my hand, and gave me some tips to hold me over until I got to the hospital. As we started driving down the road, we were desperate to find cell service. My brother finally got a single bar of service and decided to call our mom. She picked up and he quickly reassured her, mom, Micah fell and hurt his hand. We're headed to the ER, but he should. be all right. Don't freak out. Then lost service. I later found out that my mom, instead of processing the he should be all right, part immediately called my wife and skipped straight to the worst

version of events. Micah fell, it's bad, he's going to the ER. Classic form of telephone. Yep. My wife instantly went into full panic mode, assuming I had fallen off a cliff or suffered some horrific injury. Meanwhile, we finally arrived at the ER where the wonderful, staff at Davis Medical Center in Elkins, West Virginia got me in and out quickly. They gave me eight stitches and sent me on my way. Once I had a moment, I called my wife to let her know I wasn't dying, just that I had severely injured myself while trying to poop in the woods. Once the initial panic wore off, we both had a good laugh and we were relieved. But the story doesn't quite end there. Turns out, I had actually severed a nerve in my hand and had to get surgery to fix it. That was a doozy. Now, I'm fully

healed, all five fingers intact, and with a fantastic story to tell. These days, when I go backpacking, I stick to squatting and making sure to pack a much more robust first aid kit. Oh, and as for what actually sliced my hand? No idea, but whatever it was, it was sharp. Thank you for your wonderful stories. Keep up the good work on your podcast. This is just an example of making things more complicated than they need to be. Do we need, unless you have some sort of, physical limitation. I don't think you need a poop strap. Something to like have you hover in the air. Like you have clearly Micah has legs that would hold him up to poop. You know. I don't know. I kind of like the idea. But are you picturing you're on like a steep hill that's going down and you want to like you don't

want to hold onto a tree. Okay. Just strap yourself in. Why would you be putting yourself like find another place that's less precarious? Because then you. then it just rolls down the hill. But then you're not barring. You should be burying it. That's true. You should be burying it. Like, I don't know.

I just feel like this gives me similar thoughts as to if we're in the poop world here as whenever you see, you know, like magazines and like reading materials in bathrooms and stuff. I'm like, who is in there that long? You get in, you get out. Why are we on the toilet for that long? And I know people that spend so much time on the toilet. And I'm just like, what? What's going?

on in there. Every man I've ever been is on the toilet for those magazines are for men because they have 30 minute poop routines, which is far too long. It's medically concerning. It's universal too. It's like it doesn't matter. I don't know why. I don't know what's happening, but it doesn't matter all men, maybe not all men, but most men. In our experience, in our experience, take 30 minute shits. Yeah. I'm sure there's other goings on in there. But I hope so because otherwise I'm concerned about all of your bowel movements and your intestines. For sure. Genuinely.

Genuinely, like you should see a doctor if it actually takes 30 minutes. Daily. Okay. My last story has nothing to do with poop. And it is titled Less of a Trail, More of a Thank You. I'm writing to you amidst the turmoil of the last few weeks that have felt like years brought upon us by the new administration as a civil servant, working in public lands. This isn't a trail tale, more of my story just to let you know the impact you have had on your fans and listeners. I hope you read it someday because you guys truly did

save my life. And it sounds dramatic. It is dramatic. But who doesn't love a little drama when it's positive? Today, you posted about the National Park Service being gutted and I have friends who have been fired from there. I'm waiting for our turn to be slashed and every day for the last month I have been dreading going to work and seeing if I or my coworkers have been fired. Anyway, onto my story. I finished college with the degree that I wanted, despite COVID entering the scene and kicking me out of my junior year spring break in Canada, focused in a field, I believe, to be important. I had a stable job that was in the field I had dreamed of working in, remediating the human mistakes of the past when we didn't know better, or when we did know better, but profits and margins

drove us to take shortcuts and harm our environment. I had friends and family who loved me and whom I loved, but I had been suffering from severe anxiety and depression for years, and it was all coming to a head during this period in late 2021 and early 2022. I was feeling like there was no escape, no way out, that this isn't what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Why would I want to stay here if this is all there is for me? Seeing the carelessness that we have brought upon ourselves and our environment in this job made me feel worse and feel like it was impossible to fix. My small contribution would not be enough to fix the problems that we, as Americans, face in the current find-out phase after our mid-1800s to late 1990s, fuck-around industrialization phase.

I found your podcast while working as an environmental engineering consultant. I was working on a demolition and stabilization in my home state. It was a terrible site, full of contamination from over 70, years of dumping and I was there six days a week doing air quality monitoring for the demolition as the site sat right in the middle of a residential neighborhood. This project went on for several months and on my hourly walk-arounds to monitor conditions on and off-site, I would listen to your show, dreaming of the faraway places that you were discussing even if they were within tragic stories. I grew up hiking, swimming in lakes. Few people had pools because why would you have a pool when

there are 10 lakes in your own hometown, maintaining our family flower garden and fishing. So my love of the outdoors was always there, but in college and following as my depression worsened, I didn't want to do any of those things anymore. But listening to your podcast while at this job really introduced me to what public lands are and what we have available to us in this country. And for the very first time, in at least three years, it gave me hope that I could change my circumstances and find happiness somewhere, somehow. I spent another few months at this job before randomly seeing a posting for a federal job on the other side of the country, probably as far away from home as I could get without crossing an ocean. I wasn't looking for a new job. It just showed up on an alert that I had set up when I was

applying to jobs during my senior year of college. It was to a state I had never visited, never even been close to, and it sounded incredible. I applied on a whim, didn't tell anyone, and waited. If you have ever applied for a federal job, especially as a civilian or non-civil servant, the process takes forever. For a few months, the only update I got was application reviewed. Then suddenly, everything happened all at once and very quickly. I scored an interview and had to tell my mom about the job. I was living at home at the time because I needed her to stay out of my room while I was in the interview. She was like, what are you talking about? A new job? In Alaska? I said it was just an interview, I may not get the job, and don't worry. Well, the interview went great, and about a week later,

they offered me the position, and I took it. No question. I told the rest of my family and they were upset, no one was happy for me, which hurt. But I understood it was a shock for them, and they would miss me. Eventually, some of them came around. They still thought I was crazy and they had their doubts, telling me that it wouldn't work out and that it was a big mistake. But I was going to go. My mom quickly supported me after I told them I was going because she realized that no matter what they said, I was leaving. I was taking that job. My dad didn't come around until I was literally at the airport about to leave. And even then, he was just trying to not ruin our relationship. I don't think he really came around until I was there for five months and they first came to visit. Now I have been in this position for coming on two years. It has been the most rewarding and important work I have ever done. done. I have visited some of the coolest places I could have ever imagined. I am so happy with my

position and the environmental cleanup projects I get to organize and complete. Removing garbage and hazardous waste from remote areas of Alaska is a different type of fun than most people would think of, but I love it and I am very passionate about it. And I am also so scared. These last few weeks have been demoralizing beyond belief. I have watched friends lose their jobs that are so important to the people they impact. We are always understaffed and underfunded. Congress doesn't pass a budget until the end of the second quarter of the fiscal year or halfway through the third quarter. In Alaska, the field season is a short three months for those of us that need to be able to see the ground in order to do our jobs. It's so frustrating to see people complaining about overstaffing, bloated budgets, and teleworking of all things, when they have absolutely no idea what we do on a daily basis.

Every co-worker I have is a scientist. Every single one of us could make significantly more money in the private sector than we do as civil servants. We absolutely do not work for the pay, and anyone that suggests that we do should be laughed out of the room. We do the work we do because we love it. We love public lands. We love our multiple use mission. And most importantly, Americans deserve lands to recreate on, to mine for gold on, to hunt on, to camp on, lands that aren't owned by some mega corporation. The work we do is objective.

My personal feelings on land use does not matter. My job is to analyze the land use and make a decision based on laws and regulations. And that is what we do every day. The people that others are complaining about who telework every day while offices sit empty that are lazy, that are paid by outside groups, all unfounded claims, are not the people being fired. The people being fired are my friends and coworkers who have dedicated their lives to serving the American public. The people being fired have uprooted their entire lives. from their homes to move to areas needing staff and help and will now be stuck somewhere without income. The people being fired are not greedy. In fact, they are the opposite. They have given up higher-paying

jobs to serve the public. They have given up the luxuries associated with living in any populated areas. There are some of the most selfless and kind people you have ever hoped to encounter. And from hearing your personal stories over the years, you have met these people and you understand what I am saying. And it is heartbreaking. We are headed down a dark and scary path. I'm not sure I see a way out that doesn't involve destruction of lives and the environment. But the small things I look forward to are your podcast, cross-country skiing, and my little chinchilla who's keeping me here on this earth right now. He eats his hay like corn on the cob and I get teary-eyed every time because it is just so damn cute. Thank you both for changing my life for the better.

You have no idea what you have done for me in sharing your lives and stories with your listeners. I hope you are both doing well and staying sane. please keep going and doing what you need to do for yourselves. And if you ever find yourselves in Fairbanks, Alaska, please reach out. Thank you again so much for everything you have given us anonymous. Wow. I mean, I love the sentiment of that entire story. And I think that they're totally warranted and right that it is a scary time. And it's really nice to hear from someone who sees it firsthand. I think it's hard just seeing news stories and it. It feels so removed when you're just reading this stuff online, but to hear it from someone who is

affected and knows deeply what is actually going on is so important. So I really appreciate you writing in and all the love that you've given for our podcast because it means a lot to us. Yeah. And I very much enjoyed the inclusion of highlighting that it's not always a dream through and through for people who are working there from, you know, making difficult decisions for to uproot their own lives, to disrupt their family relationships and dynamics, to take significant pay cuts, to work in really difficult places, doing work that's not only physically taxing, but also emotionally taxing. There are so many factors that go into, it's not always like, I get to work outside and it's perfect. Like, there's a lot of things that go into this and

all of these different positions. And so taking that into account as well, it gives it a rounder scope, I think, and it's important to keep in mind. So thank you for writing in and thank you for the love. Yeah. Well, thank you everyone for tuning in to this Trail Tales episode. If you would like to write into us, you can find a submission link on our website, NPADPodcast.com. We're not done with the episode because we each have an extra story that is for our subscribers, which you can subscribe on on Apple or Patreon. And yeah, so my story is titled, I think I got Haunted in Japan. And mine is titled The Sign I Needed Today. Amazing. So thank you everyone for tuning in. If you're interested in these other stories, you can find it on Apple or Patreon. But at the meantime,

we'll see you next time. Enjoy the view. But watch you're back. Bye, everyone. See ya. Thank you for joining us again this week. If you have a trail tale of your own you'd like to share, you can write to us at NPAD Stories at gmail.com or visit our website at NPADPodcast.com. Bonus trail tales and content are available to Patreon members and Apple subscribers. Follow the show on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X at National Park After Dark. And if you prefer to watch our episodes, you can find us on YouTube at National Park After Dark. And as always, if you enjoy the show, please take a moment to rate, review, and subscribe wherever you listen to. podcasts. You're listening to this podcast, so I know you've got a curious mind. Here's a helpful fact

you may not know yet. Drivers who switch and save with Progressives save over $900 on average. Pop over to progressive.com, answer some questions, and you'll get a quick quote with discounts that are easy to come by. In fact, 99% of their auto customers earn at least one discount. Visit Progressive.com and see if you can enjoy a little cash back. Progressive Casualty Insurance company and affiliates. National average 12-month savings of $946 by new customers surveyed, who saved with Progressive between June 2024 and May 2025. Potential savings will vary.