National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 37

Episode Date: October 16, 2023

Today’s stories include killers in the forest, charging cougars, invisible drums, papa bears, death in the White’s and aliens stalkers. Outsiders Only bonus stories available for Patreon and Apple Subscribers!We love our National Parks and we know you do too but when you're out there, remember to enjoy the view but watch your back. Please take a moment to rate and subscribe from wherever you’re listening to NPAD! Become part of our Outsider family on Patreon  or Apple Subscriptions to gain access to ad-free episodes, bonus content, and more. Follow our socials Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. To share a Trail Tale, suggest a story, access merch, and browse our book recommendations - head over to our website.Thank you so much to our partners, check them out!Prose: Use our link for a free in-depth hair consultation and 15% off your subscription.Athena Club: Get started with Athena Club today by shopping in-store at Target nationwideBetterHelp: National Park After Dark is sponsored by BetterHelp. Get 10% off. 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. Hello everyone. Welcome back to National Park After Dark. We know it's Monday. It's a trail tales.

Everyone's confused. No one knows what's going on. Surprise. Chinks, double jinks, you owe me a Coke. Do you even like Coke? I've never seen you drink a Coke in my whole life. No, I hate Coke. It freaks me out that you can drink it and you can also put it on rust to get rid of it. I just don't want that in my intestines. It's valid. I am a sucker for a good, like, fountain Coke. Like, I'll settle for a bottle for a bottled one if I have to, but I usually do it when I'm like hung over. It's just like the carbonation that I really like, well, I don't know. That makes you throw up. It helps me like burp it up. You know what I mean? My secret pleasure for soda is cream soda. We could not be any different. It is like, I don't drink it often, but I will say like once a year, I'll go to a really good

sandwich shop and get a really good sandwich with a cream soda. It does sound. delightful when you put it that way, but just like reaching for a cream. Like, I don't even think I've seen a cream soda in a, like, where do you even get those? They come in the bottles. You get them in the old, in the old fashioned bottles and you just drink a nice cold cream soda. It's a whole vibe. Okay. Well, I know what you're getting for Christmas. I'm getting some cream soda. Okay, I drink it once a year. I do not want it for Christmas. It's like a delight that I have. Well, anyways, so yeah, we're doing trail tales today. We decided because the way that we're laying out the episodes for the like the couple

weeks before this and after this, we just have like some cool guests on that we're doing for our usual Thursday trail tale slots. And if we didn't do one today, you wouldn't hear one for like six weeks. I feel it. And we know a lot of people, these are your favorites. Every time we do a trail tales, people are like, trailtales are my favorite. Thank you so much for doing it. So we just didn't want to skip out on an entire month without doing one.

and this was the only thought that made sense. Yeah. So we have some cool stories for you guys. And I think you've been going first a lot. So I think I'm going to dip my toe in first. I have a really cool one though. Well, it's good. You're going to share it.

Oh, well, you can do it? Or do you want to flip a coin? No, no, go ahead. Do you have a coin? I said that and I'm looking around if I don't have one. Okay. You can go. We're just staring at each other.

Go ahead. Go ahead. All right, fine. Now I feel like under pressure. No, I want you to go. I want you to go because you wanted to go. You're like, I want you to want to do the dishes. Okay.

My first story is titled, Here, Kitty, Kitty. Hi, ladies. I'm a long-time listener, first-time trail tellers. I heard that, like, delayed, I think, a little bit. So I'm going to start again. I'm a long-time listener, first-time trail teller. And do I have a story for you? Oh, do you?

But to start some background as to how two of my girlfriends and I found ourselves in a National Park After Dark Worthy predicament. I went to Hendricks College in central Arkansas, which is actually not too far from Hot Springs. My freshman year, I joined the Hendrix Women's Ultimate Frisbee Team, aka the Sugar Gliders, where I met a great crew of ladies and longtime friends. Fast forward 10 years to the fall of 2022.

My fellow sugar glider BFF, Olivia, and I decided to organize an annual sugar glider alumni backpacking trip to keep the squirrel spirit alive. And I, okay. That's the cutest name. Okay, well, I'm just going to say, like, so I go through, not to put pressure, but, like, no one, like, address me directly when you're sending trail tales, but I usually am going through them and, like, organizing them.

And I was reading this one. And I did, obviously, we read them all. And I was reading this one, but I think I was skimming it because I'm like, this is a sugar glider group. Like, for some reason, I thought people who, just like a group of people that owned sugar gliders. And like gathered together. Like let's let our sugar gliders meet. Yes.

I thought it was like a, I don't know. Okay, it's not. You are the sugar glider. I'm kind of into that if I had a sugar glider. Yeah, at first, and at first when I was reading, I was like, how do they not like glide away when you're out in the trip? Whatever. There was, I obviously don't know. My only, can I tell like a small story?

Yeah. My only interaction with a sugar glider was with my cousin. And it was a little traumatic. So we went to my other cousin's house. It was her sister. And she had a sugar glider for her kids. And my cousin took the sugar glider out and was like, look how cute it is. Like it's so adorable.

I'm like, wow, I've never seen a sugar glider up close before. Why do people have these as pets? And then just like as I'm looking at this sugar glider, like, wow, it's so cute. But why? The thing runs up her sleeve and starts biting her through her arms. goes down her shirt, starts biting all over her stomach. And it was wintertime. So she just had like a lot of layers on. Goes down her leggings, starts biting her legs, comes up. It's just biting her all over her body. She's just like shaking, trying to get this thing out. Finally,

it comes out of her arm. And she like flung her arm a little bit just to like get it off. And it like landed on the couch. And then started running around the whole house. And I was like, I don't want a sugar glider. And then she looked at. looks at you like, so, how do you feel? She should leave. Yeah. That is terrifying. No, she was crying and she was covered in blood.

I have a picture of her. And she's just has a tissue covered with blood and she's just crying from a sugar glider attack. Jesus. Yeah, it was, it was traumatizing for sure. I remember for a hot minute the mall used to sell them. Did they? Yeah.

And I think it was Nashua or Manchester. And it got shut down real quick. They were a big, they were a big pet to. like get for a little while. It was like a hot commodity for a couple years. Yeah, I'm glad that fat is over. Me too. Okay. So her fellow sugar glider, BFF, Olivia, who is an actual human, and I decided to organize an annual sugar glider alumni backpacking trip to keep the squirrel spirit alive. For this first one, we knew we wanted to keep the group relatively small so we convinced our other friend and former glider captain, Micah, to join the adventure. A few weeks later,

on December 10th. This is probably also why I chose the story. It's my birthday. It's a Sagittarius. It's a Sagittarius and it's my birthday. Our crew of three badass ladies and former sugar glider captains set off to hike an 18-mile section of the Ozark Highlands Trail, also known as the OHT for the first annual Sugar Summit backpacking trip. Now, I know most people might not associate Arkansas with backpacking, but we are the natural state after all. And this trail is truly an amazing experience. For Lister's not familiar with Arkansas or this trail, This is a combined 270-mile backpacking trail that traverses east-slash-west through a section of the Ozark Mountains, including the Buffalo National River area. The trail even has plans to eventually expand by connecting into Missouri's equally large Ozark Trail.

The night before setting out, we stayed together at a cabin near the trailhead to get our gear and plan organized. I brought a smoked chicken and some veggies for dinner. There was a chicken leg left over, which I decided I would take as a trail snack. The next morning, we began at the beautiful white rock mountain trailhead. It was raining when we started, but spirits were high. About two hours in, I was getting hungry and remembered my chicken leg. We passed around the cold drumstick while continuing to make our way down the trail, damp but excited.

It was Anton Chekhov, who said about storytelling, if in the first act you have hung the pistol on the wall, then in the following one, it should be fired. I nodded the last bit of meat before tossing the bone off into the trees. Olivia hung the pistol and joked. Here, kitty, kitty. We continued on our way, making slower time than planned due to the obstacles brought by the rainstorm that had moved through that morning. This section of the OHT has three creek crossings, but they were flooded and treacherous.

The first was impassable, requiring a long detour to a downstream bridge. This meant that the last several miles to camp that night were in the pitch dark of a moonless forest night. Much of this section of the trail has been cut into the side of the mountain, so the train is steep uphill and downhill on either side of you. Because of this, the only place to set a comfortable flat camp are near the water crossings. We had no option but to hike through the dark to our camp destination at Fan Creek. No mind though, we were up for the challenge. At dusk, we came to the last two-mile stretch before we could descend to camp.

It follows what used to be an old, narrow-gauge railroad bed cut through the section of the Ozarks in 1915 by the Black Mountain and Eastern Railroad Company. It was a reprieve from the otherwise hilly, terrain as the trail entered into this flat, rocky corridor with 15 to 20 foot high walls of excavated earth on either side. It occurred to us later just how useful this human-made corridor must be to a predator when their prey can only run in two directions. I was at the lead of our trio. Olivia was second, but unfortunately Micah had strained her foot and was limping along 10 to 20 yards behind, possibly looking like good prey. It was dark and went. We trekked by the light of our

headlamps occasionally scanning off trail in hopes of a flat space large enough for the tent. As we neared the end of this corridor, I had a subtle feeling to be on the lookout. I turned to my right and looked uphill and saw the shockingly huge glowing eyes of a massive animal staring straight back at us from just 30 to 40 feet away. The light from my headlamp reflecting off the eyes made it look like it was wearing two large headlamps itself. Even scarier, though, was the size of the silhouette of its head, especially as it was crouched in that class. classic cat-stalking posture. I am not proud to admit that I froze. Eyes locked on what I now began to recognize as a mountain lion. I truly felt like I couldn't move or speak. It wasn't until Olivia,

noticing the change in my demeanor, forced me out of it with a stern, what is that? Only then did I manage to choke out eyes, eyes. Seeing it herself, Olivia responded much more appropriately and began yelling at the monster cat. This finally jolted me back to reality, and I too began letting out a series of screams and profanity. But then the mountain lion charged, moving towards us nearly 10 feet before coming to a screeching halt. I thought we were screaming loud, but that charge unleashed a whole new level of volume. Micah had caught up and joined in on the chorus. It took at least a minute of yelling and trying to look big before the cat turned and its eyes disappeared. That was big, I said. Olivia nodded in a silent, wide-eyed agreement. We were all shaken and ready to get out of the

area. None of us had any real protection beyond pocket knives, which Olivia and I now held firmly in our hands. Oddly enough, several years ago, another Hendricks College alum went viral after being attacked by an adolescent mountain lion, which he killed by choking it with his bare hands, but we must have missed that class. After continuing down the trail for only a few minutes or so, we caught sight of the cat again. We started shouting with a renewed force. The eyes seemed to appear and disappear, as the cat maneuvered through the trees uphill from us, almost like it was moving away, but checking on us every few steps. That was when we saw the second set of eyes, slightly smaller and slightly closer to the ground. These were not small enough to be a cub, but likely belonging to an adolescent.

We screamed and stomped. Then they were gone. I, like many, grew up with parents telling me that animals are more afraid of me than I was of them, but the expression felt so wrong that night. It wasn't until we finally reached Fan Creek, set up camp, and got a fire started. Did any of us start to finally relax? A few poles of whiskey may have also helped ease our nerves. On that note, enjoy the view, but watch your back. Cheers, Judith. Wow, what an encounter. So scary. So scary. Very cool. You survived and didn't get bald, but so scary. Well, the charging is like, well, there's a lot of things in this. The charging, it being nighttime, obviously, just adds a scary layer. Seeing the big gleaming eyes and then disappear and reappear. And it's like, you're being stopped.

How could you ever even relax? You don't. They said, she just said Judith was like, yeah, we relaxed after and after I had some whiskey. I'd be like, did you? I mean, I guess alcohol, courage. Yeah, that's true. And I think I know the story that she's referring to because it said a Hendricks alum. So it makes me feel like it wasn't necessarily in Arkansas because there's a story from, I remember reading it. And like when it was first coming out that like, I think it was in Colorado. I'm pretty, pretty sure that the guy got attacked by a mountain lion and literally choked it to death. I remember that story. And I remember seeing the first headlines of it. I'm like, there's no fucking way. Like, was it a bobcat? Like you can't choke a mountain lion

to death. But it was young, right? And it ended up, yeah, as time went on and details. came out. It was literally like a kid, like it wasn't a kitten kitten, but it was young. It was a baby kitten. And he like, it kicked the shit out of that guy. It's like a full grown adult. Like he was like, I was battling with like for my life. And it was a young one. Imagine a full blown. That's why I feel like if some mountain lion is actually trying to kill you and not just, you know, swiping at you or whatever. Like you're pretty done. Do mountain lions do bluff charges like grizzlies do? Yeah. So do you remember seeing that another viral video that was taking. in Utah in that canyon. And the guy was, he was backing up again out of that canyon for like five

minutes. Yes. That was when, because at the very beginning, he was trail running and stumbled across the kittens at first. And he was like, oh, shit. That like ran across the trail. And he was like, oh, shit, I got to get out of here. And then the mom was the swatting and like snarling at him. Yeah. So I think. And obviously, this is probably a question more for like West. But in predatory attacks by a mountain lion, I think you're pretty much screwed. Like for From an adult. But like a defensive one with those repeated bluff charges, I think that's a slightly different and obviously something that is survivable versus like I'm, you're being stalked by a full grown adult healthy mountain line. Like you're not, I don't think they bluff.

It's like bye. Yeah. See you later. Okay. Anyway, on tears. Okay. My story is titled Serial Killer Interaction Trail. Hey there.

Love your podcast and I have a perfect trail tale for you. It's an experience my family had with a man named Gary Hilton, now known as the National Forest Serial Killer. I learned about him on Morbid. It's Gary. I was thinking Gary Ridgeway. No. Different Gary.

Gary's, man. I'm just kidding. Like, I know some nice, Garys. So do I. It was New Year's Day, 2008, when my family went on a road trip from our home in Florida to the mountains in Georgia for a fun vacation. For many years, we have gone. to a place called Vogel State Park, a beautiful park in the North Georgia Mountains with a lake,

camping, cabins, waterfalls, and trails. On our drive-in, we always stop at Blood Mountain Overlook. This place also happens to be the very last stop on the Appalachian Trail. There is a cute store there as well as a beautiful overlook of the Appalachian Mountains. There is a tree in the front that has hundreds of hikers, shoes dangling from branches, symbolizing the end of their journey on the trail. This year, we stopped at this overlook sometime in the afternoon. I have seven siblings, and we all piled out of the car being cramped together in a van for the past 12 hours. As we ran towards the overlook spot, we passed a middle-aged man sitting alone on a bench. I was only a kid at the time, but I can vividly remember the way he looked at my teenage sister, Emily, as she went by.

He made a comment to her, you must be cold in those little shorts. We had just driven from Florida, so we were not in our winter gear. yet. Emily nervously responded, uh, yeah, I guess. We were raised to always be cautious about strange men approaching and talking to us. Where are you from? He asked. Uh, Florida. Yeah, we came from Florida. My Emily responded. She quickly kept walking and didn't engage any further. When we got back in the car, she mentioned how the man had been talking to her, gave her creepy vibes, and made her uncomfortable. Always trust your instincts about people. It's usually right. After we left, we forgot about the man and were enjoying a fun family vacation at Vogel State Park. Suddenly, a day or two later,

there were flyers everywhere for a missing woman last seen New Year's Day at the Blood Mountain Overlook, just two hours after we had been there. Soon, there were helicopters in the park, search dogs, police, and search teams hiking the area to find this missing woman. She had apparently gone for a hike with her dog at Blood Mountain Trail and never returned home. My older brother, John, even joined one of the search teams and was hiking the mountains looking for her. her. Then the next day we saw the news. How she was last reported talking to a man at Blood Mountain Overlook and how he had followed not far behind her on the trail. We saw the man and recognized him as the creepy guy who was talking to Emily at the overlook. We suddenly became very cautious

and none of us could hike or do anything without a small group of us being together. At one point, my sister even got interviewed by a news camera crew when she mentioned she had seen and interacted with Gary, just hours before he was last seen with the victim. After some time, items from the missing woman were found in a dumpster such as her student ID, driver's license, and bloody clothing. Gary was eventually caught and located the body of his victim to police. He had followed her on the trail and attacked her from behind, and then he killed her. He then was also tied to three other murders, a couple from North Carolina hiking in a national forest, as well as a woman from Tallahassee, Florida, who also went missing after going on a hike in a national forest.

He is also the suspected murderer of an additional four victims. To this day, it still gives me chills how he singled out my sister, potentially seeing her as his next victim in this long line of murders. I know exactly that that woman's name was Meredith Emerson. I remember her story very well. And I know, I know, like I said, morbid covered this killer. but I think it was maybe the first season of Park Predators that covered Meredith's murder. Yeah.

Yeah, I remember that. And I just remember it being so, like, jarring, especially because of the detail of the dog. And then the dog shows up later. And it's just like – and I'm pretty sure maybe you remember that she was, like, very well trained. She was like a blackbell or something. She was very well prepared as far as, like, self-defense. Like, she fought back hard. I haven't heard her story in a while, but I do remember vaguely that she was like not someone

that couldn't handle her own in normal circumstances. Yeah. And so for you to have such a, or you and your sister to have such a close brush with that, I mean, hours later, like that is, it's one thing to. Like he was hunting. You caught him while he was hunting. Oh, God. Yeah, that one's really, really scary.

Oh, well, I have something that's a total. departure from that and it's titled A Spirit Alien followed me home after camping. Oh, that sounds a little nicer maybe. We'll see. Hello, my name is Jasmine. I have recently discovered your pod and have loved to catch up on all the episodes. My eight-year-old daughter also loves to listen with me with the spooky trail tales being both of our favorites. About 10 years ago, I went on a camping trip with my husband, his parents, our two dogs, my best friend and her boyfriend at the time. My husband's grandparents had owned land out in Crockett, Texas, a small town named after Davy Crockett, as he was thought to camp there while on his way to defend the Alamo. With the population of around 6,000, it is a quiet

town with lots of open land. There was about 45 acres that was mainly used for deer hunting, with a few acres open to us to camp at during off-season. There is an old camper we had access to but was pretty run down, so we decided instead to pitch tents, as well as a natural hot spring nearby and a decent-sized fishing pond we were about to enjoy. During the second day, my husband, my friend, and I enjoyed ourselves by partaking in small amounts of magic mushrooms in the morning. We had a relaxing day enjoying nature, and as our mushroom high had wore off a few hours before, the sun was starting to set. My friend and I were talking next to our parked car when off in the distance about 30 feet away from us stood three entities about four feet tall. They were see-through,

but I could see a warping look to the silhouette with a green outline of their bodies. And then in parentheses, this is just such a great detail. They write, think the way Predator looks when he does the invisible thing in the movies. Which is so descriptive for someone who loves Predator. You're like, you're speaking to me specifically. Like, I am now seeing what you saw, thanks to that. They looked almost human in shape, but shorter and wider. I stood there staring at them, not saying anything to my friend, thinking that I

I was seeing things due to the mushrooms we took earlier in the day, even though it had worn off in the hours before. I asked her to walk with me back to our group by the tents, and she agreed. Once we were back to the group and away from the beings, she looked at me and said, Jasmine, did you see those things too? Relieved, I wasn't the only one. I said, yes, I did. What did you see?

And she described the same beings I had seen watching us. We told the group what we had seen, and everyone was intrigued, but no one took it too seriously. After dinner, we all walked out into the clearing that didn't have many trees to stargays. The stars were plentiful that night being so far out from any big cities. As we were looking, we noticed a few moving objects in the sky that looked like satellites, but these were moving very quickly and there were multiple in the sky. As we watched, the objects made sharp turns and were darting around, some disappearing suddenly altogether. Even my father-in-law, who isn't easily spooked, was flabbergasted, and didn't have an explanation of what exactly we were seeing.

All of a sudden, it felt as if we were surrounded by multiple different energies. While we couldn't see anything around us, it felt as though there were dozens of beings watching us. My friend's boyfriend said, do y'all feel that? And my father-in-law just said calmly, don't interact, just ignore them. To which we all agreed was the best choice. After a while, the feeling lessened, but never fully went away. While we were all, all supposed to camp another night, my father and mother-in-law decided to head home early. My husband and I agreed, we would also like to leave, and I felt extremely unsettled. We packed into the car leaving behind my friend and her boyfriend who decided they were going to stay. Later that night, they also

left early after experiencing more encounters, which included her boyfriend's clothes being tugged at by nothing that anyone could see. I was just going to say, I'm like, you just like left them. I mean, I guess it's their choice to stay, but guess it didn't last long. But also... Once we arrived home late that night, we fell fast asleep, tired from the two-hour drive back to Houston. The next morning, something just didn't feel right. Both my husband and I went to work, and once returning that evening, I noticed one of our dogs, Sox, who was a great Pyrenees mix, seemed unsettled. Once in bed, I felt the same presence that we felt in Crockett in my bedroom, and Sox was barking at the corner of our room. Oh, no.

Never a good sign. Get out of my bedroom. Feeling as if one of the beings had followed us home, I busted out my sage, opened the door, and cleansed the room as best I could while ushering any unwelcome guest outside. Feeling satisfied at my efforts, I closed the door and felt better. This was until socks went to the window and started barking outside to where said being would have been ushered out to. Feeling uneasy that we were still being watched, I closed all the curtains and socks continued to whine and bark well into the night. By the next morning, whatever had been following less had moved on and there was no more encounters.

Sox finally seemed at peace and we were relieved to be done with it. I don't know what those beings were. My instincts tells me that they were alien. The presence didn't feel threatening per se, but did feel inquisitive. It is something I haven't forgotten and I'm very thankful for our dog's socks who has since passed for ringing the alarm and doing his best to protect us. We have gone back to Crockett to camp a few times in the years after that with no other notable. encounters. The land was eventually sold to different members of the family, and we haven't been back in some time. Thanks for listening, Jasmine. Well, the government did just come out and tell

the world that aliens exist. I, yeah, to the shock of no one. I mean, I think we talked about that before, but yeah, I mean, I think it's interesting that she describes the feeling as inquisitive versus scary, spooky, haunted spirit. Just curious. Just want to know. What's going on? What do you do? Who are you? How you live in over here? You know, like, what's the deal? Cool bedroom. It's like, okay, I just saw you out here and now you're in this house. Like, what is that? Oh, it's camping. Like, you know what I mean? Spheres poster on your room? Who's that? Oh, my God. It's so funny. I like the best part of the announcement, government announcement is all the memes that followed. And it's like me explaining to my alien. It's like,

So that's Chipotle or something like that. This is Nickelback. You would. You would. 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. Low burns. Second chances. Chemistry you can feel through the screen. Your next obsession is waiting. Watch only on Prime. My next story is titled The Drums of Yosemite. Hi ladies, a newbie here just recently introduced to your podcast by a fellow hiking nature lover friend I met through social media. Definitely now hooked and got my husband roped into. Here's my Yosemite National Park story from a few years back that will always stay with me. June 27, 2021, I set out. to solo hike the Mariposa Grove in Yosemite. I left my home in YLP, which I don't know what that means, at 4.30 a.m. because the earlier, the better when it comes to hiking, especially in Yosemite. Arrived at the lower trailhead parking lot at 515 to a completely empty lot, not a soul around, peaceful and a little eerie. The park didn't have the buses running at that time due to the

COVID shutdown, so the shuttles were not running to the upper parking lot where to the main trails begin. It was still dark with just a hint of dawn's light coming up in the sky. I remember saying out loud before I hit the trail. Whoever is watching over me today, please guide me down this trail safely. I set out on the trail with my anxiety level at an all-time high. I could actually feel my heartbeat pounding through my chest at one point. When I got about three-fourths of a mile down the trail, there was a portion with a steep hill up one side and a steep drop on the other. All of the sudden, coming from up the hill, I hear the distinctive sounds of indigenous drumming that maybe lasted about 15 seconds. The drumming was so loud that I could feel the vibration of the

ground through my hiking boots. Needless to say, it stopped me dead in my tracks because I knew I was completely alone on the trail. I waited quietly for a few seconds to see if it would happen again. It did not. Just the sounds of the birds waking up in the morning. There were no other noises. I looked down at my watch to document the time. It had just turned to 5.56, which meant that all of this had occurred at 555. I am a huge believer in the spiritual world and have had many experiences in my life with the paranormal. So my first thought when rationalizing what had just happened was maybe this is a residual occurrence that happens at the same time every day. One thing I knew was this was real and I would be researching these sounds immediately when I got back home. I continued down the trail as

quickly as I could possibly go until the sun finally came up and I spotted other hikers heading up the trail. That day, I ended up hiking a total of 10 miles with 1,578 elevation gain in 90-degree temps, and a total of four hours with only a few breaks. My new personal best solo hike to date. When I got home, I told my husband about my strange experience and we immediately hopped on our phones to research any information we could find out on what had happened. We couldn't find any reports or stories about native drum sounds in Yosemite. But when my husband looked up the meaning behind the time and the occurrence that took place at 555, the light bulbs went off and he knew exactly what I had experienced.

555 is the guardian angel number. Those drum sounds were a sign for me. From whoever is watching over me, letting me know that I am protected, not scared, and that it's safe for me to continue down the trail. Which is why I think after I heard those drums, I was able to complete such a challenging hike with ease,

such a beautiful spiritual thing to have happened out on the trail. True trail magic. Side note, I never intended to do that. many miles alone when I started. I am very well aware of the dangers of hiking alone, especially in Yosemite, and take all the precautions I can to keep myself safe. I will never forget this experience and have shared it several times since on different platforms and have now heard other stories of the same thing happening in the park but at different locations. Thank you for sharing my trail tale and for this podcast, some of the most fascinating stories I've ever heard. And thanks for

reminding me to always watch my back and to enjoy the view. Much love to Nia. reminds me of did you do a story about the lake drums under the lake or something or was it singing under the ice of a lake or something? Am I making this up? You're thinking about Spirit Lake in Colorado when the children drowned under the ice in the lake and you could hear them like banging on the ice to try and come up from the water. Oh my god. Did you tell that story? Yeah. It was a very traumatic story. I know. Sounds like it. Like I've never heard that in my life. You tell that to me. Trauma dumped it. Probably. Yeah, I mean, I feel like that's, I wouldn't say it's common because I don't think it's common,

but we do see a lot of stories come through about people hearing drums or singing or chants or music while out on the trail seemingly alone. And I just think, yeah, I think it's a really, there's something to that and what that is, I'm not sure, but it's a cool experience. Definitely. All right. my last story is titled The Seven Summits and Grizzly Bears. Hi, Danielle and Cassie. I found your podcast over a year ago and my favorite episode still stands, The Jenny Lake Rangers. As with everyone,

I love your podcast, history, humor, nature, emotions, and brutal honesty. Are we brutally honest? I like that. I think we're brutally honest sometimes. That's good. I love that. A little about me and my family and why I love your pod. Half of my nature-loving family lives in Lake Tahoe and constantly sends videos of close encounters with wildlife from desolation wilderness and their home surroundings. These include bluff charging black bears, pissed off badgers, cougar tracks, howling coyotes, herds of deer, and more. I'll be sure to attach a few. More importantly, one of my brothers, the adrenaline junkie, has made it his mission to climb the seven summits. To list a few of his accomplishments, he, quote unquote, warmed up with Mount Whitney, fell 60 meters short per his

GPS in a whiteout storm atop Denali, summited Kilimanjaro in Okanagua. I don't know if I'm saying that right. And was on Mount Everest when the deadliest avalanche on record tragically took the lives of so many Nepali Sherpas, an event he cannot talk about to this day. More recently, he fancied the back-to-back ascent to Broad Peak and K2. Damn. A true adrenaline junkie, he loves what he does, and we cautiously love that he loves it. Enough about family.

here's my trail tale from decades ago. While the details are fuzzy, the fear was real. My adoptive dad, who has since passed, was also a nature lover. When my older adoptive brother and I were kids, seven and 11 years old, he decided to take us on a serious camping trip to Lake's Tahit in Washington. We had to take a ferry just to get out to the location and then hike our way into the area. There were less than 10 campsites and each site was over a mile apart. We stored our drinks in the stream, hung our food in the trees,

and slept in a paper-thin-tent. Basically, my dad planted us in the middle of the Okinawanawa-Wanachi National Forest, where camping is the real deal. While on a long hike, we reached a small stream with a huge rocky incline on one side and a dense forest on the other. I spotted a small group of deer and made the fairy tale dream of successfully approaching and touching them my mission. I methodically made my way over, quite proud of myself for how close I was getting,

when suddenly, and to my disappointment, they scattered and disappeared. I ran to my brother and began bragging about my dear encounter while he hopped the other side of the stream. Amid my childish exaggeration, my eyes landed on my dad who was on the same side of the stream as me. He was statuesque, staring at the top of the 200 to 300 foot rocky incline. Before I could turn back to look at my brother, he screamed, don't move. I spun around to find my brother who had abruptly stopped and was also looking up the incline. I felt. I felt, followed both of their gazes to the top of the rocks, and there they were. Two grizzly bear cubs descending the rocks in a zigzag saunter, too busy to notice.

And where there's cubs, there's a mom. Majestic, magnificent, and horrifyingly enormous, she appeared on the ledge and surveyed below her. Her massive body froze, followed by her cubs pausing as she locked her sights on the three of us. My brother and I stood motionless, separated by the stream, trying to process exactly what was happening. My dad broke the surreal moment by frantically swooping up two of the biggest rocks he could manage while sprinting in my brother's direction. Bounding across the stream, he smashed the miniature boulders together and yelled with all of his might. It felt distinctively clear in his reaction, things were not okay. I don't actually remember exactly how things unfolded.

However, I suspect the mama assessed the situation and decided it best for them to leave. The cubs scrambled back up the rocks and all three of them disappeared from the ledge just as quietly as they had came. My dad gathered us quickly, hiding any sign of panic or fear, and we made our way back to our campsite. It was over as quickly as it began. Decades later, with countless hours of NPAD and tooth and claw under my belt, I understand that we were lucky that day. Really fucking lucky. My dad likely didn't make the best decision, but what he lacked in knowledge, he made up in bravado with a split-second, life-saving reaction.

He was going to save his children. End of story. I never thought to ask him about that day because he made the event seem so inconsequential. Unfortunately, I never acknowledged or thanked him for saving our lives. When I spoke at his funeral a few years back, this was the story I told. It perfectly captured who he was as a father and nature lover with an undefined, denial love for his kids. Thank you for taking the time to read about my crazy-ass brother and my decades-old grizzly bear encounter. It should be noted that something must have registered in my

subconscious that day because a few nights later, I peed in the tent all over our sleeping bags because I was too afraid to go to the bathroom outside in the pitch black night. Remember to enjoy and always be prepared to watch your kids' backs. Thank you both, X-O, Lisa. I would have also preferred to pee in the time. It's like, I'm sorry. It's like, I'm sorry. I'm not going out there. Like, I have a change of clothes tomorrow. I will pee here. Like, that is a choice to just, like, actively pee your pants.

I mean, she did say she was seven. Yeah, you know what I mean? Seven years old, I would definitely choose to pee my pants. And it's so interesting because when I first read this, I was like, a grizzly in Washington, like, that seems odd. But, but this is, she said decades ago, you know, decades ago, there was a different situation. And this lake is up near the North Cascades where there is a grizzly presence. A small, small, small one. But you found them. But yep, they found you. Well, I'm glad you were all okay. Yeah. Well, don't mess with Papa Bear. Yeah. Grizzlies don't got shit on Papa Bear.

That's right. All right. My next story is called Death in White Mountains National Forest. I came across your podcast only recently, and I'm loving it. I am a huge NPS enthusiast and lover of nature in general. My story comes from the top of Mount Washington, which I know you are both very familiar with. That's right. I hiked it this year, actually. In August 2006, my father, my sister, and I were doing a backpacking trip. It was odd that we were alone.

No friends or family could come on this trip, so it was just us. On August 4th, we were hiking up to the summit after staying at Hermit Lake. It was a nice day, mild and sunny, but windy. I was in front of my dad and my younger sister when I heard yelling. The wind made it almost impossible to tell where it was coming from. I remember looking back at my dad and he just kind of shrugged. We kept walking until I heard it again. I yelled to my dad that it didn't seem like normal, happy yelling, and he told me to go on

ahead and see. I was 19 at the time and had been up Mount Washington at least six times at this point. I remember running across the Alpine Garden towards where I thought the noise was. At that point, my sister and dad had finally heard the yelling too, and were running right behind me. We came across an older woman and a young girl who had climbed up a boulder and was screaming. We learned later that the woman and her husband were day climbing the mountain with their young granddaughter and the husband's brother. At some point in their trip, the brother, Jean Morrow, said he was tired and wanted to take it a bit

easy. As I remember, the woman and her granddaughter stayed with Jean, while her husband went on ahead to order everyone some chilly at the observatory. Gene Morrow told his sister-in-law he needed to use the bathroom and went behind the large boulder. After a few minutes, she became worried and started calling out to him. When he didn't answer, the granddaughter climbed the boulder to see him slumped on the ground, apparently dead, and started screaming. That's when we came on the scene. My father was involved in our town's emergencies team, so he had some training in EMT services. He immediately began CPR, but it quickly became clear that it was too late. To add to the scene, communication was difficult since they only spoke French and we only spoke English. We all knew a few common words in both

languages, but the story was still serious garble. Thankfully, we were right at the point in the Alpine Garden where the trail from Lake of the Clouds comes up. A young couple was hiking up, We ran to them and thankfully they were also from Quebec. They were able to get the details of the story from the woman while her granddaughter looked on. I honestly don't remember how, but a caretaker from the lakes came up. I think maybe the boyfriend of the young couple ran back down to get him. I was busy trying to get the little girl off the rock just staring at her great-uncle's body. The caretaker brought an AED, but it was unsuccessful.

A plan was made for me to lead the woman and her granddaughter and my sister up the mountain while my dad and the young couple, the caretaker and other caretakers who had joined at this point, took Jean Morrow's body up to the summit on a different route. I think they actually hiked out to the road and walked up from there. It was easier to go up than down from this point. I'll never forget not knowing how to comfort this family who had just seen their family member die in front of them. As we were hiking, I started singing Freer Jocs because it was the only French I could think of at the time. We were all able to laugh when they started singing it in a game.

English. The family reconnected at the summit and arrangements were made for the family to get down the mountain with the body of their loved one. We found out later that Jean Morrow passed from a heart attack and received a beautiful thank you card from the family. I will never forget that day, nor will I forget Jean Morrow and his family. I'll also never forget hiking down to Hermit Lake shelters or Ho-Jos in the dark and that caretaker giving us hot chocolate and Oreos. She was seriously one of the nicest caretakers we met there. Thank you for this podcast and the work you're doing, bringing awareness about the darker parts of our beloved parks. I can't wait to keep listening and hopefully catch up quickly.

Thank you, Corinne from New Jersey. It's a heavy one. But having supportive people and having like complete strangers like that come to your side in such a difficult time is really special. And to be able to be that for other people is an experience in and of itself. Yeah. And I think unfortunately on. Mount Washington. This is something that I think happens every year. I know this year I saw at least

two stories of people having heart attacks on the mountain, which is obviously very, very unfortunate, but I think it's a combination of maybe like a prior health issue that maybe wasn't known or is known. And then the altitude gain and the stress of the hike. I think it's kind of a combination. But it's unfortunately not uncommon on Mount Washington. Yeah. Well. But I can't imagine being up there and seeing that. That's so traumatic, especially with the AEDs and the CPR. CPR is not what you see in the movies. No. Where it's just like a nice little, I mean, it's just, it's horrific in real life. Yeah. It's really rough to see and do, you know, yourself. And yeah, the whole situation is definitely like a traumatic one for everyone. But the way that people. gathered around and helped each other out and supportive is just really special to see, especially like them singing, like, I don't know any French and this is the only French thing

I can think of. And I just think that's really like, no one has to do that. You know, they could have walked away or been like, oh, that sucks. I think that's one of the beautiful things about the hiking community is that we're all, we're all out there for the same reason. So even with people that maybe there's a language barrier or you can't find common ground with. You can find common ground somewhere. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Well, we have two other stories for outsiders and they're happier. We're going to end. So if you want a happy story, you have to pay for it. And join us on Apple subscriptions or Patreon. Yeah, that's really the moral of the story. So if you want to be depressed, I guess like see you next time, but for everyone else, we'll make your day. So, uh, yeah, see you next time,

everybody. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch you're back. Bye. Thank you so much for joining us again this week. If you have a trail tale or story suggestion, send us an email at Stories at NPAD Podcast.com. Follow us on Instagram and Facebook at National Park After Dark and on Twitter at NPAD podcast. Join our outsiders-only community on Patreon or Apple subscriptions to listen ad-free, unlock monthly bonus episodes, and exclusive content. And remember, when you support our sponsors, you are supporting our show. For our exclusive discount codes and source information from today's episode, check out the show notes. For more information on our show, our book recommendations, merch updates, and more.

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