National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 45

Episode Date: March 28, 2024

Today’s stories include an Oregon disappearance, tuck and rolling, tiger eyes, solo cougars, mystery lights, accidental bear selfies, haunted castles and being at the right place at the right time. 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!Zocdoc: Use our link to download the Zocdoc app for free.Prose: Use our link for a free in-depth hair consultation and 50% off your first subscription order. 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 have another trailtales episode for you all today. And we have a bunch of really exciting stories. We sure do. Do you want to, are you feeling adventurous? Would you like to go first? Or do you want me to go first? I don't feel adventurous today. Okay, then I'll take the lead. I'll take the lead on this one. You're welcome. I appreciate you. So my first story is titled Solo Cougar Encounter.

Ooh, like a cougar like an animal or like a cougar. I'm going to like probably say an animal. Who knows though? It could get spicy and we could all be shocked. I don't know why when you said cougar, the first thing that came to my mind was like a really beautiful older woman with a lot of money. I'm like, yeah, cougar, a solo cougar encounter. Great. You just opened the floodgates. Now people are going to be writing in about that type of cougar. Okay. Hi, ladies. I found your show when I was working on.

a hops farm in Colorado and was weeding in the fields for eight hours a day for more than a month. The work was killer and I needed a distraction and fell into the rabbit hole of your podcast. I love the trail tale episodes and I feel like it's time for me to submit one of the many wild outdoor stories that I have. This tale happened in October of 2022 when I was living and studying in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness in Idaho. My alma mater, you of Idaho, does a program called Semester in the Wild, where a small group of students backpacks 35 miles out into the wilderness and lives there for three months, taking classes and learning outdoor skills. I went to the wrong college. I'm just going to tell you that right now. Agreed. Same. We have had this discussion before, but we kind of just like picked our colleges for no real reason.

I got financial aid for mine. That was my whole. I will say my college did have a lot of outdoor programs. programs that I never utilized. Yeah. And it's just like hearing things like this, I'm like, I should have done a little more research into where I wanted to go to school. But anyways, that's how we're 10 years ago now. Wow. More than that.

Ouch. Don't age. Don't help. Don't age. Okay. Okay. Sorry. Spend decades.

Where are they solo cougar encounter? Yeah. Where are they solo cougar encounters? We're getting there. Here it comes. Okay. Long story short, it was the most incredible time of my life. I fell in love with the rugged terrain of the backcountry and learned so much about the natural world and myself. Towards the end of October, it was starting to get quite cold, and I knew my window for backpacking was coming to a close. So I chose to go west up to this abandoned firewatch tower that I had wanted to see. It was my first time backpacking solo, but I felt pretty comfortable and confident since I had so much experience in the summer and fall prior. I headed out, spot device and pepper spray clipped to my belt. It was about an eight-mile hike one way with about 3,000 feet

in elevation gain. I had a wonderful day trekking up the mountain, taking breaks for lunch and for writing. I remember just how quiet it was up there. Even the rushing of the big creek was hushed or not audible from behind the ridge. There is nothing more serene than the silence of the backcountry. I was told that our friend Ben had also been headed that way, maybe, so I expected to run into him later in the day. As my hike went on and on, I never saw him. I lost hope that he went up this way. I was absolutely alone on this mountain. When I reached the foot of the last descent, I decided that I was too tired for it right then, and I'd set up camp for the night. I'd pack in the morning and finally explore the watchtower then. My evening was nice. I was in this clearing of Douglas firs that a swarm of

chipmunks called home, so they spent a lot of time chirping and chiding me for invading. I wrote some, read the overstory, an amazing book I highly recommend it, and even cried a little while reminiscing on my life and how it had turned around so quickly. I had gone through a horribly painful breakup this summer before and my world had fallen to shambles. And yet here I was, living in paradise just a few months later. I was reading in a sagebrush field when I heard stomping, crackling of branches and bushes. I was supposedly alone in the backcountry, so what the hell was that? It was a large animal, that much I knew. It was coming from my campsite where my my bear spray, knife, and spot were shit. With my heart racing and no real plan, I jumped to my

feet. After a few more lumbering steps, I saw a red hair coming my way. Are you pooping? Katie, my TA asked. I let out a sigh of relief and told her she scared the ever-loving shit out of me, but no, I was not pooping. She had decided to follow me up the mountain a few hours behind, also in the hopes of seeing the lookout. We chatted for a bit and she sent it up the rest of the way to the peak. And I would see her in the morning. After a sudden, stunning, fiery sunset, I spent the night huddled in my tent, bundled up, but still freezing. It was the night of the harvest moon, so sleeping was tough, but the moon was incredible. I had woken a few times to some wrestling or snapping of branches, but I brushed it off as my nerves,

and most likely those chipmunks. The rest of the trek up the mountain was tiring but beautiful, through thick dug furs and lodgepole, the underbrush, a quilt of oranges and reds, as fall left a dusting over the forest floor. I was looking down most of the time, as fall in trees blocked a good portion of my path. While happily passing by an empty outfitter camp, I stopped dead in my tracks. A large, somewhat fresh, I'm not good at aging footprints. Cat print was right there in the mud. It was far too big to be a wolf and lacked any claw marks. It was a cougar print. I knew that many lived here and that they make their way towards our field station in the winters to hunt the deer and bickhorn sheep that descend for our stream and limited food. I had a mini heart

attack thinking about the noises I had heard in the night, but just went along my way. I didn't see or hear anything around me, and there was no use in freaking out. Either way, I had to hike eight miles back to camp, as unsettling as it was that I may have been inspected or stalked by a mountain lion, one of the only animals that truly terrifies me, I had a goal in mind. When I reached the top, Katie was still huddled in her sleeping bag, reading. We made tea and had breakfast together, giggling over how badly she scared me. She told me that she was so excited by the peak that she, full moan, already blazing, howled to the sky like a wolf celebrating a victorious hunt. I told her I saw Cougar print, which sent chills down both of our spines. The fire lookout itself was actually quite haunting, all run down

and boarded up. Inside of it sat a lone child's pink cowboy hat. It had a storage cellar under it, broken glass littered the floor, and there was no way I was going inside any of that. The view from up there, damn, it was worth all of those scares. As far as the eye could see in every direction, there were rolling, expansive mountain ranges. No roads, power lines, buildings, or people. No signs of human life besides the two of us. The Frank Church wilderness is the largest contiguous wilderness area in the lower 48, and I had never known such sweet isolation. Every breath of air was meditation. Every step I took felt like I was forging a path new to humankind. I spent an hour or more just gazing over the peaks and valleys, naming the sites I knew, and in awe of the ones I didn't.

Katie took some photos of me next to the lookout, and again, I heard loud, aggressive crunching in the woods behind me. I whipped around, and our buddy Tyler pops his little head above the vegetation. I needed friends who would stop announcing themselves like this. I was more than confused as him and Corbin had ventured north deep into the mountains a day or so prior. How they got all the way over here, I had no idea. to see them, but Katie and I headed down the mountain soon after. Also, there were no water sources up where we were, so we had to filter hours from a horse trough at an outdoor camp. Yum. Ew. I remember that trip as one of my favorites because I conquered my trepidation of solo backpacking. And now I love to do it on my days off between work as a park ranger in Utah. As a woman who loves recreating outdoors, often alone, I encourage other women to do the same. I have met so many women who are terrified of going into nature alone, which I understand, but I believe that you can't let that fear stop you from pursuing something so rewarding and so

worthwhile. Educate and prepare yourself, arm yourself with knowledge and protection, and don't let yours or others fear stop you from living the life that you want. There is so much to be found out there. Thanks, Cassie and Danielle for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. I have many, many stories from my years of adventuring that I may share as well. As always, enjoy the view. but watch your back, Haley.

I love a good adventure story. And I really love that last detail where they said, don't let your fear or other people's fear deter you because I feel like there's so many times, especially as women where other people's fear of what you're doing is portrayed onto you where it's like, oh, don't do that. That's dangerous. Why would you go out there?

That's scary. You shouldn't be out there alone. Whatever it is, people portray their own fears onto you and want you to act accordingly to their fears. And I think that's just such a good sentiment that she said at the end. Yeah, well, their projections just kind of like worm their way into your mind. And it's hard to shake them. You know, like you can't help but absorb people's thoughts, feelings, and emotions that are around you. And if that, you know, pours into your experience, then it can kind of taint it. And I've been there a million times before. So, and it's hard to shake, but.

Yeah. Especially if it's from a person that you respect and you trust their opinion too. Oh, yeah. And that's just even harder. Even if, and I always have to think about this, like, does this person have the same interest as me and are they experienced in what they're talking about? It's the same thing when you say that you're going to another country and people are like, why would you go there?

I've heard it so dangerous. It's like, have you been there before? No. Right. Like, okay, well, I've been doing research and I've planned to this. extensively, so I'm less apprehensive about it, but thank you. But yes, very cool story. 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. For my first trail tale, it is titled, Where Are You Kevin? Hello, I'm a former MPS Ranger who used to work at the Oregon Caves National Monument. This trail isn't specifically about me, but rather one I learned while working there. It's a story that has some inconsistencies, a lot of questions, and generates a lot of uneasy feeling in the deep darkness of the caves. In February of 1987, Kevin Gordon Hill, a 23-year-old from Yakima, Washington, left on a motorcycle trip to California.

The reason for the trip is unknown, but it was suspected that Kevin may have been experiencing a mental health crisis. On February 24th, he was charged with reckless driving in Jackson County, Oregon, and released with a scheduled court appearance in June, a court appearance he never made it to. On February 28, he visited Oregon Caves National Monument and took a tour. At the end of the tour, the guide asked Kevin to leave, to which he refused. and retreated deeper into the cave, saying he was there to find God. He was never seen again. In March, his disassembled motorcycle, trash campsite, and personal belongings were found along the side of the Forest Service roads near the caves, but they never found him in or out of the

caves. The commonly accepted theory is that Kevin left the cave on his own at some point, and most likely died somewhere in the national forest surrounding the monument. But what if he didn't? Spring forward 34 years. Occasionally, it is necessary for a ranger to go into the cave alone for any number of reasons. As I suppose it's normal for most people in this situation, it was always unnerving, or at least it was for me, to go through that cave alone. Even with the lights on, I could never shake the feeling of being watched or of someone standing behind me.

Sometimes I was convinced I was hearing something, like a footstep right behind me. I would spin to look and there would be nothing. Was it my imagination? Was it Kevin? Or was it someone or something else? I think it's Kevin. Well, can I just point something out that's so glaring to us only? What? So we are recording this early because when this comes out, we're gearing up to go to Peru. What is today? February 28th.

When was he last seen? February 28th. Why do we keep doing this? I don't know. I don't know. Oh, my God. Isn't that insane? Is Kevin here?

I don't know. Is Kevin with us? That is so great. I mean, what a interesting little tidbit, though, of a story. And something that we should probably look into. It seems like that's a missing person's case or disappearance that has some potential for a story. And especially hearing about it from a ranger is cool. So thanks for writing that in.

Yeah, that is cool. Oh, my God. Very interesting. And freaky coincidence that we just, I know, that we just read that today. All right. Hmm. My turn. All right.

Well, I'm going to switch it up. My second story is called the Mystery Lights of Pine Creek Rail Trail. Hi, ladies, I've been happily going down the rabbit hole of your trail tales and decided to share a little story of my own. Over the summer, myself and two friends, Kyle and Steve, went on a bikepacking trip in what is known as the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon. The trail winds 62 miles along an old rail trail deep in the Pine Creek Gorge of Tioga and... Oh, God. Why do you guys do this to me? You got to phonetically spell it out because I don't even know what this says. Tidegatan State Forest.

We're going to go with that. Sure. The rail trail was used for coal and logging transport for over 100 years, but well before that was utilized as a corridor by Iroquois warriors and other Native Americans. We planned on breaking the trip up into a few days and camping in a spot they had been to before in between. We packed our bikes to the brim and enthusiastically began our ride down the trail. We biked 20-some miles or so until we came across the beautiful landmark of our campsite, Hotel Manor. Yes, that's really the name. A beautiful little inn that sits right on the Pine Creek.

Because the route used to be used as a railway, it meanders through a few old little towns, mostly with just an inn and a restaurant with minimal residents. To get to our particular campsite, we crossed a bridge over Pine Creek and walked our bikes up a massive paved road behind the inn. To the left of us were old logging cabins and a cemetery, and to the right is the desolate black forest. We reached a tiny little pathway on the right that the guys indicated was the trail to our campsite. We slung our bikes over our shoulders and began the fully downhill descent to our site. I'm an avid hiker and this hill was steep, even if we weren't balancing bikes at the same time. Once we finally made it down, over logs, and passed mushroom paradise, I realized why it was so worth the effort.

We were in our own little cove, with the slate-run creek rolling through and cliff sides covered in pine on the other side. I looked back at the hill we had just climbed down and realized how fully secluded we truly were. Me, being who I am and thinking of life's simple luxuries, last on my to-do list, had only brought a hammock and a tarp to camp with. I was trying to keep my bike load as simple as possible. saw my rig, you'd understand. It could quite honestly be happy, happy sleeping on the ground. I set my hammock up in the perfect pair of trees right by the water and the guys helped string up the tarp over top. It was looking like quite the vagabond setup, especially against their nice pop-up tents and sleeping bags, they had set up further away on the flatter hillside. They had brought hammocks as well and

made a little hammock bunk bed set up in a pair of trees next to mine. And we were set. We made a fire, cracked some beers and laughed the night away until we retired to our respective nooks. I, in my tree top, only mildly concerned about the fact that I was the only girl in the group and also the only one fully exposed in the dark and isolated forest. Night two, we had a bit too much fun on the trail and had not made it back to our site until after dark. We had Steve's small headlamp to help guide us back down to our site and we're unsure if we'd be able to start a fire since a giant storm had passed through and everything was wet. We did our best to get one going, but it was pretty weak, and we were all tired from our longest day of biking.

We decided to bust out a little bottle of whiskey and retire to our hammock triangle, so we could kick up our legs and hang at the same time. We passed the bottle around, and the guys were sharing stories as something straight ahead in the darkness caught my attention. Directly at my eye level on the other side of the creek, an orange light appeared. It lit up quickly and bright like a flame, and then dimmed smaller into a purport. circle of bright orange light. I watched it quietly, the voices of my friends drowning out into the night as I squinted my eyes in confusion. I watched as lightning bugs danced around the summer sky, glowing and moving sporadically, and tried to find a similarity in this new light. It stayed perfectly still, pulsing only outwards and inwards, getting brighter and dimmer.

I sat up in my hammock trying to adjust my eyes. It hovered back at me. The whiskey bottle passed my way, and I was jolted back to reality. Guys, do you see that out there? Straight ahead, that glowing light? Steve hopped up out of his hammock on the top bunk and peered out into the trees. Maybe it's a fisherman, he said, trying to rationalize. A fisherman, I questioned, sitting up further in my hammock. He flashed his headlamp at the mystery light, hoping to get a reaction.

But the light didn't move. He flashed again, and still nothing. We both stared ahead for quite a while. Kyle was pretty comfortable in his hammock and only turned around to acknowledge that, yes, he too saw the light. Eventually, Steve deemed that the light was a fisherman and retired to his tent some ways away. Shortly after, Kyle went off to his tent, jokingly telling me the next day, well, I would have heard you scream, and I was there, left alone, swinging like a piece of meat from a tree, having a staring contest with an orb. Once I was alone with it, things started to change.

The light was morphing, like a lava lamp into other lights that would blob out of the darkness, dance around and then disappear back into the original orb. Sometimes it would quickly move way up into the trees before coming back down, directly into my line of vision. Other times, it would etherely sway side to side, but mostly it remained perfectly still. I watched both mesmerized and terrified for hours. If Steve was right and there was a strange man fishing, there was no way I was letting my guard down. If Steve is right, these men fishing were 15 feet tall and levitating. If Steve is wrong, and we all know that Steve is wrong, what are these dancing lights,

and why have they remained steadily in front of me for so many hours? Despite my efforts, sleep got the best of me, and I succumbed to the early hours. When I woke up in the morning, I raced to the creek to look for footprints or any sign of human life, but just as I expected, the morning sun only brought more confirmation that the lights were seemingly not of this. realm. I told my friends about staying up all night and staring at the orbs and joked with them about leaving me swinging from the trees as we packed up camp and began our final stretch home. This was not my first time seeing orbs as I saw a group of big, playful blue orbs in the desert of New Mexico. But this light felt different and even those disappeared after a few moments of

gyrating across the barren landscape. This light was more like a ball of fire, a lantern in the night belonging to an old railway worker, or maybe the bright, dominant spirit of a native of the black forest, or perhaps something more extraterrestrial. We made our way triumphantly back to our starting grounds, loaded up the car, and stopped at a small local bar a couple miles from the trailhead on our way home. We were having some beers and talking excitedly about completing 124 miles when an old man with a big beard on the other side of the bar smiled in our direction. He walked over and said, heard you guys talking about the rail trail. I've maintained trails in this forest for years and

years. He sat down with us and we all talked about the beauty of the forest, this and that and the other, before he went on to say, I used to chainsaw in that forest, but I stopped doing that some years ago. He took a sip of his beer. Then, whatever's out there doesn't like noise. He took another sip of his beer, winked at us, and walked away. We all looked at each other with wide eyes, smiling with our jaws dropped, and the pure movie magic that we were experiencing. All that was in my head, though, was a gentle nod to the old man and the mystery, of the forest. Thank you so much for listening to my story and for sharing it if you do. Remember to enjoy the view, but watch your back as you never know whose forest you're entering and if what

lurks beyond our realm will welcome you or not. Thanks for listening, Julia. P.S. Steve has later confirmed that he never thought the light was a fisherman and still finds it a complete mystery. What a fun story. I like to believe that there's some magic and unexplained things in the world and that sounds like one of those things. A thousand percent. And there's always an old man at the bar that's like, ugh. The old wise man. I couldn't help it over here.

Let me just drop some knowledge on you and then disappear, never to be seen again. Maybe that's just an old person thing, though. Like maybe when we're older, we're going to be those people who just, and maybe they're all just making shit up. Maybe it's just a host for everyone. Yeah. Yeah, totally. That would be, I would love to do that. But I don't think, I can't get through things like that. Like, I can't commit to the game. You know, like, I just end up crying or crying. Crying up that too, I guess. Like, I'm so sorry. I'm lying. This is all a ruse. Yeah, I can't stay committed for long because I just break character. And I'm never able to. It's because you're not the right age yet. Once you have a certain age, it'll be your time. Yeah, once we're real cougars, it'll happen. Okay. All right, my story is titled, Run or Roll, a New Zealand adventure story.

Good afternoon, friends. My name is Kristen, and I am writing to you from Mitten State of Michigan. I discovered your podcast several months ago. And every drive to work, trailwalk with my dogs, and downtime at home is filled with NPA details. I love the work that you do, and it has given me lots of new fun ideas of where to travel next. The story that I'm going to tell you takes place on the South Island of New Zealand in early 2006. I'm not really sure if it was in a national park, but it was definitely in the wilderness. I was working with a non-profit at the time, and on the weekends, we would take fun trips around the island to explore when we weren't working. One particular weekend, we decided to go on a camping trip. There were going to be two separate groups heading off to camp in different areas, and we would reconvene the next day to share our experiences with each other.

For the time that I was working with this nonprofit, I lived in a house with 15 other girls, being an introverted, only child, I was desperate for some alone time. When we arrived at our campsite, we discovered that not all of the tents had been packed into our van. We only had one five-person tent and one three-person tent for 12 people, and we were several hours away from home. The general consensus was that 12 of us could just jam into two tents we had available, but I had come up with a better idea. I was going to grab my sleeping bag and find a nice, soft, mossy area where I could sleep under the stars on my own. I walked up the trail just far enough to where I could still hear the people that I was with, but I was more or less on my own.

I told them my plan and a couple of others decided to do the same. I crawled into my sleeping bag, listening to the sound of the stream nearby, and started reading the book I had brought with me. This was just the quiet evening I had hoped for. About half an hour after I settled in, I heard something to my left, and when I looked over, one of my friends started laughing and said that she was going to try to sneak up to scare me. We laughed and chatted for a few minutes, and then she said, and then she looked. she went on her way. As dusk was settling in, I decided that I was going to turn in early,

maybe take a little nap, and then when I woke up, it would fully be night time and I could stargaze. I put the few items that I had away in my bag, snuggled into my sleeping bag, and shut my eyes. Before I fully fell asleep, I heard something moving around to my left again. I thought it was my friend, who was trying to sneak up on me for a second time, but I was facing the other direction and couldn't see. I decided that I was going to pretend to be sleep, and maybe I could jump up, and scare her before she got to me. Before I could do anything, something was sniffing my ear. This definitely wasn't my friend trying to sneak up on me again. Turns out that I don't have fight or flight, I just freeze. My eyes grew big and before I gave it a second thought, I dove all the way

down into my sleeping bag and held the top closed with my hands. Now what was I supposed to do? I had just trapped myself inside of a sleeping bag while a random creature was standing over me. I figured that I had two options. I could wait until it seemed like it was gone and slowly unzipped the sleeping bag from the bottom. Maybe I could just manage to untangle myself and run away before I was eaten. Or I could just roll away and hope that I didn't call into the stream nearby. That is so funny. The visual is funny. I'm not.

I mean, what she's in New Zealand, right? New Zealand, yeah. Okay, so how many, I mean, it's scary either way, but like, at least. it's not like, they don't have big predators there, right? I think they have bears there. Do that? But I don't know. I guess I don't know anything about New Zealand wildlife, actually.

Okay. Just the rolling away tactic is funny. As an escape is funny. The former seemed like the less stupid idea, although I was aware that neither option was particularly stellar. While I sat quietly trying my hardest to not move a muscle, whatever was standing over me started to circle the sleeping bag, sniffing. I took slow, steady breaths, and needed.

that I just had to wait it out until I thought it was gone. Being from Michigan, the first thing that crossed my mind was that it was a bear. I really hadn't done any research about what wildlife was prevalent in New Zealand, so for all I knew, it could have been a bear wanting to take me back to its den and feed me to the family. As the creature finished its second circle around my sleeping bag, I felt a body lay next to mine, with paws and legs crossed atop the sleeping bag. Whatever it was that was hunting me had decided to rest next to me before making it stack. After several minutes, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to stay quiet for much longer.

I was only a 30-second walk away from where I knew other friends were staying. So I thought that if I tried to sneak away and I was to get attacked, at least other people were close by and would be able to save my life before I was killed. And if not, it had been a good 19 years and I would be leaving this earth with a great story for my friends and family to tell. I very slowly started to unzip the sleeping bag from the bottom. I could tell the creature had come to attention, but was still laying across the top of the sleeping bag.

Once it was unzipped enough, I quickly scrambled out and hopped to my feet only to find a lost dog, wagging its tail at me in delight. I had been found by a lost dog. Aw. To say that I was relieved was an understatement. I laughed at myself as the dog walked up and licked my hand. It wasn't only lost, but also very friendly. I ended up cramming myself into the tent with the others to avoid anything else, sniffing my ear

as I fell asleep. I learned from the group that New Zealand doesn't actually have any large predatory animals. Oh, look at them. Oh, there we go. They had allowed us to sleep under the stars because there really wasn't anything dangerous that we had to be afraid of. I looked at the dog wagging its tail next to me and laughed again. In the morning, we heard a car pull up to her campsite. When we got out of the tent, two guys exited their car and asked if we had seen any dogs around.

We unsiped the tent and the dog went running to its owner. Not only had we found one of their lost dogs, but at that moment, moment, some more of our friends who had camped overnight just up the trail came walking up with a second dog. The two men had been hunting the day before and both of their dogs had run off and not come back. They had found our group and stayed safe with us overnight until we were able to reunite them with their owners. 18 years later and remembering back to that story still makes me smile. I learned that it's always important to do a little research so that you know what you're aware of before staying out in the wilderness in a new area. Even if what you learn is that you don't really have

anything to be afraid of. Enjoy the view and watch your back, especially if you aren't sure what you should be watching for. Your faithful NPAD listener, Kristen. Oh, wholesome. Very wholesome. I'm glad it was a dog. Just snuggling up with you for the night. Yeah, that reminds you. Like, I can just picture my dog blue like that. Like, oh, yeah. You're my family now. Exactly. Yeah. Okay. My last story is called baranoid. Dear Cass and Danielle. National Park After Dark is literally the only podcast I have ever listened to consistently. So first, I want to thank you both for all you put into the show to make it so great. You've both inspired me through the stories you tell, both personal and not, to have a greater appreciation for

the outdoors, and of course, especially for national parks. I'm what I like to call outdoorsy-ish. There's such an absolute peace I feel when I'm surrounded by nature, but I was born and raised a city girl. And there's just some things I haven't totally been able to overcome, like peeing in the woods or those portals to hell the state parks and national parks have, aka gravity toilets. I love to plan hiking trips and then wondering what the heck I was thinking one mile in. But I have never regretted the journey once the hike was over. Over the last couple of years, I've made it a point to go out and explore more often. As a teacher, this has been relatively easy to do during my breaks. And in the last two years, I've taken three road trips visiting 11 national.

parks. A year ago, I wanted to write in to tell y'all about my idiotic moment during my trip to Guadalupe and Big Bend National Parks, where me and my traveling buddy went up the wrong trail at the top of Guadalupe Mountain and ended up having to basically climb up the side to get back on trail, or how we almost passed out due to heat in Big Bend while on the dried up Rio Grande Riverbed. But I put it off because I would think to myself, what if something cooler happens? But I would also disregard it instantly because I didn't want any other kind of. trail tail. I wanted my time on any trip in the future to be not trailtail worthy. But last summer, I took a road trip with my mom throughout the south of Colorado, visiting Great Sands, Black Canyon

of the Gunnison, and Mesa Verde National Parks. Now, before I get into the meat of my tail, I have to admit to my complete paranoia of bears. I have zero desire to see any kind of bear. No thanks. I'll pass. I saw one at a distance while safely in an RV in Alaska, and that was good enough for me. While in Big Bend, I would shuffle my feet and talk loudly every so often just in case there was bear around. My travel buddy thought I was being paranoid, but we didn't have any bear spray, so I kept on yelling out. Fast forward to last summer, my mom and I drove into Black Canyon and stopped at the first outlook to take a look at the canyon. It was like the earth had just cracked open. With the sun high in the sky, there was a sunny haze over the canyon, but the blue-green river was bright against the rocks.

There was a ranger hanging out at the lookout, and I overheard him. mention a trail right below the lookout. Right took you to the campground and left took you to the visitor center. A short hike, only about 10 minutes. The trail was right on the cliffside and I was pretty adamant about never walking a trail alone. I'm also a little bit of a sissy. I decided 10 minutes on a trail that was near the road and would leave to the visitor center would be just fine. My mom drove to the visitor center to wait for me and I hit the trail. When I'm on the trail, I like to sip every single moment, which I mean I want to take in every second and enjoy where I'm at and what I'm doing. But I'm also paranoid. So I pray to gain some peace, God, please don't let me see any animal bigger

than a squirrel. I came to a natural outlook on the cliffside and took some time to take in the view. There's a space near the edge of the cliff that I thought would be perfect to sit and journal or reflect. But I dismissed it because I knew my mom would call the Calvary. I decided to take some selfies with the canyon behind me. And when I turned back around, I thought to get a little close to the edge so I could take some photos of the canyon before continuing on the trail. I took one step forward and heard a noise in the bushes and trees beside me. I looked to my left and all I saw was the head of a bear with its paws grabbing berries on the tree branch. He was about two yards away from me. My stomach drops. The first thought that passes through my mind is,

oh God, no. I take that one step back and the bear is hidden by the foliage once more. And a million other thoughts fly through my mind from why me, why me, why me, to how did I not realize something was there? Something was there way before. Unfortunately, my fight or flight instinct is very strong in the flight direction. So the thought that won out above all else was it didn't look at me, it doesn't know I'm here, I can run. I really am just so embarrassed to admit that. I know how wrong I was. The fear made me lose my mind a little bit. So yeah, I booked it down that trail. hyperventilating with the thoughts of a bear crashing through the woods after me. I'd also seen cocaine bear a few months before this trip, so yeah, even though those scenes flipped through,

even those scenes flipped through my mind. Cocaine bear is not accurate. I just want to say that. But it is very horrific and gruesome so I can understand why that would make you very scared. Then suddenly, I came to a part of the trail that seemed to lead right off the edge of the cliff. How? How had I managed to miss a turn I was supposed to take on the trail. Would I have to go back? I wasn't even thinking. Only the word no echoed through my mind. But then, five seconds later, I saw the trail continued over this flat rock and around a tree hidden until looked for. I ran the rest of the way and the moment I saw the road, I cut over it and ran alongside it. Near the visitor center, I saw two girls starting the trail so I waved them down. And in my breathless state, I'm not a runner, y'all. I said,

bear. They thanked me for the warning and turned back toward the visitor center. We passed another group of four to five people and I told them the same thing. They asked if the bear I'd seen was a black bear or a brown bear. While I saw a brown head in the branches of the tree, I didn't think it was a brown bear, so I told them it was a black bear. They kind of waved me off and said something like, oh, no big deal then. Maybe he's still there. Then they continued on their way. I thought they were insane. But also, even with my fear of wild animals, it bothered me that the group would choose to intrude on the bear instead of maybe waiting a bit to start the trail. I saw a ranger and figured maybe I should tell him. I said, am I supposed to tell you if I see a bear? He shrugged and said, if you want. I told him where I'd seen it. And all he told me was,

huh, that's interesting. We've never seen bears on that trail. Cool. When I finally found my mom, I told her what had happened and the first thing she asked was if I got a picture. No, mom, absolutely not. had no desire to be on the news as the dumb girl who got attacked because she wanted a photo. But I remember I had taken pictures of the area and figured I could at least show her where I saw it. I flipped to the selfie. I'd taken a minute before and my knees literally went weak. In the background of my pictures was a brownish-colored bear who had just come over the cliffside right where I had thought about going and sitting down. And I wanted to cry. There's so many instances in this story where I feel like I was a dummy, but this kind of took the cake. I didn't

have to worry about the bear knowing I was there because of their sense of smell. This one had quite literally seen me and decided berries were more important. How did I miss this? Like I said before, it was blindly sunny and I could barely even make out myself in the camera. However, I do remember hearing something after I initially took the photos, but I had thought it had come from in front of me on the other side of the trail and I had brushed it off. I laugh about it now, especially since another ranger identified it as a juvenile black bear. Yet, there I was, absolutely terrible. of this bear and the bear didn't mind me at all. I just kind of love the irony of it. Enjoy the view, but watch your back has a new personal meaning for me now. And I promise you to

actually, you know, watch my back from now on. I'll attach two photos. The landscape photo is the first picture I took and the portrait is in the second. And the first, if you zoom in, you can see the head of the bear popping up over the cliffside and the next you can clearly see him. Anyway, thanks for reading, Zara. That's such a fun story now. It's so fun. looking back. Yeah, I'm sure. But it's such a fun story now. Just a selfie. You had no idea. And then you're a bear in it. Wait a minute. Something you're absolutely like scared shitless of. And yeah. And typically not supposed to do like if you were purposely taking a selfie with a bear, it would be like frowned upon. But the fact that you accidentally took a selfie with a bear is hilarious.

Yeah. And like you just have wanted the experience, the completely opposite of experience as so many people want. You know, so many people go to. in National Parks hoping, praying that they see a bear. Yeah. You know, and you're just like, anything but that, please, God. And there it is. There it is. It's like, you know, people who are like allergic to cats, they're the first person a cat comes to.

It's like the people who don't want something to happen to them. Yeah. You got one more? My last story is called Eye of the Tiger. Hi, Cassie and Danielle. I've been listening to you guys weekly since a few months after you started NPAD. I love the outdoors and wildlife and also worked as a veterinary assistant for almost seven years before moving to Texas to start a PhD. When I saw that 33 was about a tiger in Ratham Bore National Park, I was ecstatic as I was fortunate enough to have visited in December 2014.

I visit in India on a short-term study abroad focusing on wildlife conservation and management with my undergrad university. We were able to visit Ratham Bore and we were there during Eustead's rain. While we didn't see him, we were able to see a young female tigris. However, my trail tail comes from a different Indian National Park. Prior to visiting Rathambor, we visit Sariska National Park. Since study abroad trip focused on wildlife conservation and management, we studied under the direction of Indian graduate students and veterinarians. While in Sariska, we learned about the ethical sampling of wildlife, how to track animals

with radio collars, and human animal conflict in the area. decades ago, Sariska used to be a known area for tigers. However, by 2005, it was reported that no more tigers were in the reserve, mainly due to poaching. In 2008, two tigers were relocated from Rathumbore to Sariska. This was the first time tigers had ever been successfully relocated anywhere in the world. Wow, I did not know that. That's exciting. During our stay in Sariska National Park, we saw so much wildlife.

Wild chitl, which are spotted deer, sambar, which are large deer species, nilghai, you're really testing my pronunciation in here, Nilgai, which is a blue bowl, a plethora of birds, gray langers, rices, macaques, and even some tiger pug marks. We even got to anesthetize a couple of sambar does to collect various hair, fecal, and blood samples

for one of the graduate students' research. On our last full day there, we spent the day learning how to do population estimation. We split up into small groups and gotten into our open-top jeeps and spent the day counting the wildlife we'd seen and how far off the road they were. But we still hadn't seen a tiger. As dusk was falling, my group arrived back at the Sariska Palace where we were staying. We were the last group to get back and had started heading up the steps of the palace when the graduate student who'd been with us all day excitedly told us to get back in our Jeep. Many of the adult tigers in the park had radio callers for the staff to keep track of them, and one of our guides had just received a signal that one of the Tigris's was close.

We went back into the park, but it was soon pitch black. We were in open-top Jeep and could only see what low lights our Jeep could show us. We drove for what seemed like a while. All of the students in my group had been pretty silent the entire trip, probably a mix of adrenaline, excitement, but also a little fear. We slowly came to a stop. All of the sudden, our driver and guide who had been tracking the tigris start talking very quickly in their language. While I couldn't understand what they were saying, I knew something was wrong by the tone and the way they were speaking.

Our jeep slowly started to back up a few feet. Then basically, right where our Jeep had been, a tigris sauntered out from the bush, the same bush we could have reached out and touched from our jeep. She walked across the dirt road we'd been driving on and continued to a small hill just to the right of the road. She sauntered to the top of the hill and stopped. She slowly turned her head to look at us for a moment. She then sauntered down the hill until she was out of sight. Then we all collectively exhaled. When we returned to the palace for good that night,

the graduate students in our group told us that the driver and tracker had seen the glisten of the tiger's eye in the Jeep headlight right before they started to back up. She was close enough to touch. This experience remains to be the most incredible wildlife encounter I've ever had. If anyone is interested, the Tigris was ST3 and passed away in 2022 due to natural causes. I've attached photos of the Tigris we saw in Rantambor and the others are pictures of our time in Sariska, including some tiger pup marks. Photocredits are due to my trip roommate and friend Casey.

India was an amazing place to visit, especially for wildlife enthusiasts. And I look forward to trying to get back there now that I'm officially done with school. Enjoy the view, but watch your back. and maybe your head if you're looking for tigers in an open vehicle in the dark Savannah. I don't know if I could do that. That's so scary. Like I was scared in, well, I wasn't scared, but I was, I was kind of nervous when we were in Africa in the open top or like the open door, like open window side jeep things. And we were near the lions.

They were really close. And they were kind of following us too at one point. Yeah. And I was kind of like, okay, can we like, we did eventually back up. But, like, I was kind of just a little... That lioness could have closed the space between us in one and a half strides. You know, she really tried. And that's in the full ass daylight with multiple guides and, like, you know, being in a wild space in India in the dark.

The dark just adds to that. You don't know. With tigers? No. And tigers, yeah. The answer's no. I don't know. It's a cool experience.

The answer is yes. If I know I'll survive. But you don't. That's the thrill of it. It's the thrill of it. I don't know. I've just gained such an appreciation for wild cats when for the longest time I wanted to, before I was in wolf conservation and decided to work at the wolf center. I had done a couple of job shadows at wild animal sanctuaries and conservation centers in the Midwest. And I did a job shadow at one particular one in Indiana. And I was there for like two and a half days. And they had wolves, but they primarily had big cats. And I have never, I mean, being next to them, like, separated by literally just a chain link fence, like, and that is it. You know, behind the scenes and doing things like that. And hearing them and being so close to them, like, there is nothing that compares to a big cat, especially up close.

And I was like, I can't, I just don't, I don't think you should ever feel completely safe and comfortable any around anyone. animal. It doesn't matter if you've, you know, just started a job shadow or if you've been working with them for 25 years just because they are wild animals. But I just knew I would never be okay, like, working with them in that way. So, yeah, respectfully, I was like, I can't, I can't do this. And I shifted my focus. So to just knowing how I fell around them even separated safely, I don't know if I could handle being out in the dark, in the wild in their. In their, space with them like that. Within touching distance.

Yes. God. I got the shivers. Well, thank you everyone for tuning in for another trail tales. And thank you everyone for sending them in. We seriously, we love reading all these stories. They're so exciting and fun. And you all have such a variety of stories that you write in, which is the best part.

So please keep doing that. If you have not done it yet, or if you have a story, you can go on to our website. NPAD Podcast.com and there's a submission link there and you can write in your story there. Yeah. And for outsiders, we got two more coming your way. Everyone else, we will see you next week. Enjoy the view. But watch you're back. Bye everyone. 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. Visit our website at npaddpodcast.com. and please rate, review, and subscribe from wherever you listen to podcasts.

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