National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 54

Episode Date: August 29, 2024

Today’s stories include park spirits, strange encounters, Alaskan adventures, embarrassing moments and cocaine heroes. 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!Nurture Life: For 55% off your order, head to NurtureLife.com and use code NPAD.Naked Wines: To get 6 bottles of wine for $39.99 and join the Naked Wines community, head to NakedWines.com/npad.The Minds of Madness: Listen wherever you get your favorite podcasts. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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And our first story, which you are going to be sharing, is the biggest throwback of anything we've ever retold on the show. We have a really special story that originally aired on Trail Tales 3. Yeah, and it's one of my favorite ones that we've ever told. And it just aired so long ago that we wanted to bring it back because it's a really kind of special story. And I think that it's a fun one for people who have been specifically to Arches. And I'd like to know if other people have this experience as well.

Yeah, we've had a couple follow-up stories over the years kind of spurring off of this original story. And there is a reason we are retelling it today. And we'll tell you that reason at the end. So go take it away. Take it away. Okay. So my story is titled Spirit of the Arches. Hi, Lovelies.

I absolutely love your podcast. I discovered it while searching for something to listen to while doing a solo cross-country trip this past summer through 16 national parks slash monuments and 25 states. I finished every single episode that was available before the end of my journey and have been a weekly listener ever since. Inspired by your Trail Tales episodes, I began thinking back on an experience I had with the spirit at Arches National Park. When I arrived at the park early in the morning, I made my way through the front gate into the Red Rock Beauty, stopping basically every 10 minutes. for the amazing photo opportunities. During one of my stops at the courthouse towers, a woman gave me advice to hike the delicate arch trail. I wasn't the most experienced hiker, but this woman assured me over and over that despite the high experience level, it would be something I could do

and that it would be worth it. So I figured I should at least try it out. If it's too difficult, I could always turn around. When I got to the trailhead, it was already 11 a.m., and the heat was still steadily climbing. Before I began my ascent, I made sure that I had all the necessary supplies based on the summer hiking recommendations. I brought a gallon of water, a sunshade hat, a personal alarm in case of emergency, and plenty of sunscreen. Along with my ascent, there were plenty of times I stopped and considered giving up. But something the woman kept repeating over and over in my head, you will do this trail. Not in a reassuring way, but as if she could see the future. I continued my way up through the heat and lack of shade, stopping often to catch my breath and drink some water. As I inched my way

towards the ledge of the last turn, I finally saw it, delicate arch. I began to cry. It was so beautiful and I was so proud of myself for completing such a difficult trail. I scrambled across the rocks to get a closer view and I saw her again, the woman who told me to do the trail. She greeted me with a warm smile and, and I told you so, and a wink. The woman couldn't have been older than 60. Her dark hair spotted with the occasional gray and her face displayed years of smiling. Her hair was pulled back into a single braid except a single strand that was tucked behind her ear. Her skin looked as if it was made of earth itself and her eyes made of the sky. She stood about 5'4 and was wearing a white tank top and black running shoes.

While I was waiting for my turn for a photo opportunity, she turned to me and said, Do you see that raven there? That's the spirit of the park. He sits and judges those who stand beneath the arch, letting the park know if someone would dare to hurt it. If he's silent, he knows that your heart is pure and that you will respect this natural beauty. If he cries, he knows your heart is selfish and that you would desecrate the park. On the top of the rock that balances the aptly named Delicate Arch sat the biggest raven I have ever

seen. You could tell that he had been there for quite a while based on the amount of bird poop covering the top of the rock. Several people stood at the base of the arch while I was waiting. The raven sat quietly, so I thought the woman was just banking it up. That was until a man stood underneath the arch and the Raven began to caw. I watched the man after he stepped away from the arch, curious to see if there was any truth to this woman's story. And sure enough, he proceeded to pull out a bag of sunflower seeds, litter the shells, and feed some to the wildlife. I turned to look at the woman in disbelief, but she was gone. One minute standing right next to me and then nowhere to be found, almost as if she had disappeared into thin air. I asked another person in line if they had seen her leave, and they said

they didn't even notice anyone standing next to me. My turn under the arch finally came, so I made my way underneath, posed with my arms stretched out wide to say I did it. I looked up and the Ravens stayed silent. I was still skeptical but felt honored if the story were true. I grew up a passionate follower of take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footsteps, philosophy, and have cried at every single national park I've been. Yes, every single one. At this point, I thought maybe dehydration was causing me to imagine the whole thing. So I sat down to drink some water and relax before my descent. I watched several other people went under the arch with no noise from the raven. That was until a young couple walked underneath and the raven began to caw again. When the woman stepped out to take a

picture of her partner by himself, the raven was silent. When they switched places, the raven began to caw again above the woman. I watched and waited if she did anything to indicate that she was disrespectful to the park like the sunflower seed guy before, but nothing happened. The couple talked briefly before ultimately beginning their descent, so I once again shrugged off the story of the so-called spirit of the park. I left the landmark about five minutes after the couple did and began my descent to the trailhead. While walking the last steep hillside, I finally saw why the raven cried above the woman and not the man. Further down the trail, I saw the woman finished drinking from a plastic water bottle, crumple it, and throw it to the ground. Her partner

picked it up after her and scolded her against littering. My job. dropped. When I finally got back to my car, I still couldn't wrap my head around whether what I saw was dehydration, mixed with confirmation bias, or something truly paranormal. Either way, I was content because if the Raven was the spirit of the park, I was honored to be judged as pure of heart. And if it wasn't, I had another story to tell about my cross-country road trip and signed by Anonymous. And that's the story. And it has been one of our most treasured stories since the beginning. There's a few others that we can, I think the foaming pants story. Pants is iconic. Saga, yes. Yeah, the traveling, what is it? People call it the sisterhood of the travel or the frothing pants or so. I don't know.

It's taken on a life of his zone. Sisterhood of the frothing pants. Yeah. But the spirit of the park story has really stuck with us not only because it was beautifully written, but because of the sentiment behind it. So because of that, we have something to share with everybody. Yeah, we've decided to make a cool design as part of our merch that honors the story. It makes it more of a fun trail tale listener experience turned into merch. Yeah, and the merch that everyone has been asking about is dropping very soon. It will be dropping September 9th at 10 a.m. Eastern Standard Time. So we have a countdown going on our shop page and it's on our website and we'll link it on our socials and everything. And there's going to be some designs in there that you've seen and loved before. But this spirit of the park design will also be included in the newest launch.

So March is coming in a couple weeks. We'll set a couple other reminders on some upcoming episodes. But this is your first warning or heads up. Not a warning. It's not scary. I don't know. That just came out really weird. This episode is brought to you by Prime.

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Of course it wasn't, because Moose aren't real, which is an... not real. Wait, that wasn't a trail tail. That was something you said, I think. Yeah, that was something I've been saying because I've never seen a moose in New England. And that is still true three years after the podcast has started. So moose are still not real. And we're awaiting that to change at some point. It would be bad for the brand at this point. But maybe. So hopefully you don't ever see one. Okay. So it wasn't a moose. Hello, ladies. I've attached a PDF in my trail tail. Feel free to use it or lose it. I have thoroughly binged the podcast and can't get enough of it. Recently, I had an exciting trail experience I needed to share.

I live in Minnesota and have been wanting to see a Minnesota moose for a while. No offense to the Montana moose I saw a few years ago. Anytime I venture farther than my normal carbon footprint, I pray to God that I will see a moose. There isn't a moose in this tale, but he slash she comes up a lot. Recently, birds have been an exciting part of my life. I guess when you hit your 30s, they are suddenly the most exciting thing to you, and you acquire some spotting books, binoculars, and an app, and off you go, looking for birds. People ask you how your day was, and you say things like, it was okay, I saw a chickadee today, or burst into a door and go, guess what I saw? And if people know me well enough, they say, a moose, and I disappoint them, but not myself because I'm becoming a

birder, and I say, no, a pelican. It's just the weirdest thing. I turn 34 on my birthday. I know. It's shocking to change your age on your birthday, but I did it. With my new birding hobby in mind and realizing that the birding bug isn't as fascinating to everyone I know, I kept my birthday plans close to heart. I wanted to go somewhere alone. I didn't want to wait for it to work out for someone else, and I just wanted to be quiet so I could hear the birds. I decided to go to Rice Lake National Wildlife Refuge in McGregor, a short one-hour jaunt to enjoy my new passion by myself. I only told my parents and waited to tell them when I was leaving. Top secret birding mission.

And maybe a moose? While at the refuge, I found some new birds, chatted with a beaver, and jokingly asked God if I could see a moose. This area is not moose territory, not to put God in a box, but I realize that my best way to see a moose is to head up to the boundary waters or Gunflint Trail. A moose this far south in Minnesota probably isn't a super healthy moose, and I guess if I have to be picky on my moose spotting, I would like to see. see it healthy and not right in front of my car with no time to stop before impact. Since the beaver I found wasn't very chatty, I ventured to a new space in the refuge. I had my mind on it for a while as a great spot to stop. North Bog Road. See, I had been to the refuge in March and planned to go again during migration season. Upon my arrival, I parked my car, looked over the area and decided

where I would plop my camping chair down to listen to and identify birds. I enjoyed the sunny day for five minutes and was content to stay there for another hour or so. As I was feeling content, some weird sounds began at my left. My brain told me they were a warning sound from some critter, perhaps a bird. I got my phone out so I could use the Merlin app to ID the sounds. However, something told me to set my phone down and look to my left. 50 feet away, I think, I don't know, I don't carry a measuring tape with me. Jogging in the middle of the path, big enough for a car, was this cat-like brown-and-color creature, jogging towards me, by the way. Cue the adrenaline.

I get up from my chair and yell, hey-yo, while grabbing my binoculars to see what this animal is. I find it in my knocks to see it turning away and running into the woods. 1.6 seconds is all I saw of it in the binoculars. It was enough to note the color, the long legs, the pointy cat-like ears, and tail. I put my binoes down, grabbed my phone so I could start Googling, but had no service. Great. Now I have to guess what this animal was. I was 85% sure it was a cat. 15% thinking it could be a fox or coyote because those are way more common to see than any type of cat. I couldn't remember for the life of me what the difference between a lynx and a bobcat was.

How long is a bobcat's tail? Are they that leggy? I thought they were more gray in color. I was fairly certain it was too short for a cougar or a mountain lion, but you know, if it was a cougar, I packed up my chair immediately and threw it in my car, slammed the door, and then thought. some more. The cat ran away. It probably wouldn't come back, so maybe I could drag out my chair and enjoy that other hour I had left. But I thought, would I end up being on a tooth and claw podcast? I mean, if it was a cat, was it a cougar? I don't know. They just need a good grip on your neck and you don't get to see the rest of your year being 34. So I left. I spent the rest of my no internet service time thinking about my reaction. I talked to myself. Thank God for giving me the right response to get big and yell loudly. Did I say, hey, oh, cat, nice to see ya. Oh, hey,

oh, cat, nice to see ya. Oh, sorry, you were just going hunting there. Let me just scotch on out of here and give you your space. Good grief. Oh, sorry. I will also admit, I was quite upset I had the right reaction. Had I hunkered down and waited quietly and patiently, I could have gotten a picture of that kitty, but nope, I scared it off. Again, I'm 98% happy. I had the right response. Locations unknown seems to have enough material. I don't need to give them anymore. Once home, I finally had service, and after a serious 10 minutes of investigation,

realized that I saw a bobcat. It wasn't a moose. And that's my trail tale. Thanks for sharing. Perhaps one day I can share a story about a Minnesota moose. I'll probably throw out a... Oh, God. I don't know what this says.

UFTA? Is that a Midwestern thing? I don't know what that is. UFFDA. UFTA. I don't know, I'm sure somebody will tell us, instead of a heyo when I do encounter one. Hopefully I can see it long enough to take a picture and give it a good Minnesota goodbye. Remember to enjoy the view, but watch your left.

You never know what animal God wants you to see next. Nelly. And I loved that story because not only was there some good references to other shows that we love, like tooth and claw, and of course we did an episode with Locations Unknown, but the birding tie-in is just so relevant to you. There is nothing wrong with birding. I'm not saying there is. We are all entering our birding era.

Like anytime I'm with you, you're just like, oh, let me pull out my burling out. Oh, excuse me. Do you see that tufted titmouse over there? I saw this, I wish, I could find it. I should have saved it. But there is a, I saw it on Instagram, but it's like this small business that does birding shirts, but they're all pun. Like, you know, like the most PG one is, it's a silly goose and there's a goose on it.

Yeah. But like they get raunchier. And I don't know. It's just really. That's so funny. Funny. And I almost got you one. But instead, I decided to get you another piece of t-shirt material that now we can match.

I do love matching. Well, my next story is also in Arches National Park. It is titled Strange Encounter in Arch's National Park. Hi, Danielle and Cassie. I've been a longtime listener of the podcast. and always look forward to your trail-tale episodes, and I decided it was finally time to write one in of my own. For the last 10 years, my husband and I have taken a two-week road trip across the country every year, spending time recreating and camping in every corner of this beautiful country.

Because of this, we've had our fair share of strangeness and have encountered many things that still leave us scratching our heads. When I sat down to choose which story I wanted to share, my mind immediately went to something that, to this day, still causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up any time I think about it. It was May of 2015, and we spent two weeks exploring southwest Utah and Arizona. We camped in Moab for a few nights while exploring arches and canyon lands, and looking back, I have never been more happy to camp in town and not out on BLM land or in a national park campground like we usually do. On our last night, we decided we wanted to drive into arches at dusk and wait for the sun to fully set

so we could try and get some Milky Way photos. I should take this time to tell you guys that this whole trip, we kept saying there was a bad omen following us because of the wildest stuff that kept happening around us. For instance, while waiting for it to get completely dark that night, we hiked out to a large rock formation, and as we were standing under it, a boulder unlodged itself,

hitting my husband in the chest, knocking him down and winning him pretty badly, while ripping off his puffer jacket. That should have been our cue to just call it a night. but we pressed on. After we got back to the truck, we drove further into the park to try to get as far away from light pollution of Moab as we possibly could. Anyone that has ever been in the desert at night knows there is literally no light anywhere.

And because of this, you can see even the faintest light if someone were to turn on headlight somewhere. At this point, it's about 9.30 p.m. And we hadn't seen a single car on the park road we were in over an hour. We found a pull-off and decided that it would be a good spot to set up our camera and hopefully get some shots. As we pulled off the main road and into the pullout, we put the truck in park and started getting our camera bags out from the back seat. When literally out of nowhere, a light suddenly lit up the entire cab of the truck. It was like someone had turned a spotlight on and

pointed it directly at us. Again, there was no way a car could have turned in behind us without us seeing its headlights coming before getting directly behind us. We both immediately looked in the side and rearview mirror, and as we did, something tall walked between the light and our truck bed. We could see it breaking the light as it passed between wherever the light was coming from and the bed of the truck. It seemed to be walking upright, but the way the light was shining, it appeared as only a black mass to us. My husband threw it in drive and we peeled out of there as fast as we could, and when we turned back onto the main road, there was nothing where we had just parked. No lights, no car, nothing. We drove as fast as we. We drove as fast as we were. We turned back on to the main road. We were,

as we could out of the park, constantly looking in our mirrors, to see if we could see lights and there was nothing. We got back into town, climbed into our sleeping bags, and didn't say a word about what had just happened until the next morning when the sun was up and we were eating breakfast. For years, we have tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for what we saw, but never can. Even if it was a car, we would have seen the headlights coming before it got behind us, and there was no way a car could drive that road without headlights on. There are definitely things out there that can't be explained, and this is one of them. Thanks for reading and thanks for the community that has been built around this podcast. You ladies are great. Maybe one day I'll write in another

of our strange experiences we've had. Always remember, enjoy the view, but watch your back, Jess. Okay, so I have an initial thought, and I want to know if you think it makes sense. Okay. Okay. So I know that she was describing how they would have seen a car, if it was indeed a car, they would have seen it coming and all that. Do you think it could have been someone just that was sitting there for a long time, stationary and then turned on their lights? Like another car? Yeah.

And then it just appeared or not? Or is it because, I don't know, I kind of, I forget, were they there and they saw that there was no other cars around during the day or in the light? It seems like they drove there and didn't see any cars there when they pulled over and then suddenly there was a light. Honestly, my first thought, and it probably wasn't this because I think they would have known this, but the back of my truck has these lights that turn on and they're really bright and they shine to the bed of my truck. And if I have them on, or like, it's kind of easy to press the button if you're maneuvering around. I just think like maybe at night you were like

already a little freaked out being in the dark and then accidentally press your own lights on and then it shined. But that wouldn't really explain it because you would drive away. and they would still be on. So that doesn't really explain it, but that was the first thing that I kind of thought. And I don't know. It's weird. And to see something walking right behind you is really creepy.

That's like my biggest fear, actually. Like, you know, in your backup camera, my biggest fear is that I'm going to be backing out and I'm going to turn my backup camera on and there's just going to be like a face or a person just standing there because it's black and white, it's dark out. At night. At night, right.

Yeah. Or you see something like in the corner. and you're like squinting at your screen, trying to decipher what you're seeing. And then it jumps at you while you're squinting at it. Or it runs. There's something about the running. Is it running at me or away from me?

At you is arguably worse. But even the reaction of the recognition of being seen and trying to get away from you is scary too. Yeah, it's all scary. I don't know. I can't explain what that is because, I mean, if you're in the middle of the desert and there's no one around you,

and suddenly this bright light comes and there's some figure behind you. Maybe there was someone there and you just didn't see it or... I don't know. I don't know. I feel like the explanation I first said would be something that they would know and wouldn't be something that they would be afraid of. So it's probably not that. Yeah.

So I don't know. But anything running behind my car in the middle of the night, no thank you. Spooky. Spooky. All right. My next story is titled, There's No Such Thing as a Coincidence, Alaska Style. Hello, I love your podcast and the work you do and hope that this message find you well. I wanted to share with you my favorite trail tale I've ever experienced.

My mom's dream had always been to go to Alaska. She talked about it all the time, wanting to see nature at its finest traveling through the beautiful state. I decided that I would surprise her and plan a trip to take her to Alaska. The day after I finished planning the trip, my mom had gone into a coma. She died 12 days later and I was never able to tell her about the trip. I was devastated. I couldn't even talk about Alaska for several years following her passing. Once I had worked through some of the grief, I mentioned to my dad that he and I should take a trip there.

He called me the very next day saying that he'd booked tickets for us to go up to Alaska that September and that we would be there on my mom's birthday. We hiked on her actual birthday and I was wearing a ring of hers that I'd found when I was a teenager. It fit me perfectly and I had been wearing it for years because it reminded me of her. While we were hiking, I decided that I was going to put the ring on a pine tree so a piece of her could stay where she had always wanted to be. I found the perfect pine tree overlooking a valley that had a chain of mountains as a backdrop, glaciers flowing between each mountain, and I decided that this, this was the perfect place for her to enjoy the scenery. I slid the ring onto a pine tree branch, pushing it all the way back to the trunk of the branch, and we headed on her way. A couple of weeks ago, I had the chance to visit Alaska again. I was with a friend and a group of six other people I hadn't met, and we were going to spend

eight days hiking, kayaking, and enjoying nature. The week before we left, I was feeling anxious about the trip. The one person I knew, her mom, had died unexpectedly the week before. And when I looked at the roster of travelers, there was a person named Keeley on the trip. This was the name of my ex-wife, who had been very abusive, and I hadn't been around that name since the day we had gotten divorced. It felt like a lot of heavy emotional triggers all at once, but I set my anxieties aside and went on the trip anyway. Our second day, we stopped at a brewery, and I realized we were only a couple of miles from where I had left my mom's ring. I mentioned it,

and immediately the entire group said, we need to go. I protested, not wanting to stray from the group's plans, just to go to a hiking spot that was special only to me, but everyone insisted we had to go, since we were so close. We pulled into the parking lot where I had begun the hike with my dad three years earlier and I tried my best to remember which direction we had gone. About a mile and a half later, we came around a bend and I knew, absolutely, that this is where I had left my mother's ring. I soaked in the experience of feeling closer to my mom than I had felt in years and so grateful

that the group had insisted we come. Before long, everyone had stepped off trail and was looking through the pine trees. After a couple of minutes, I heard Keely's voice behind me, as she said, Is this it? I turned to see her holding up my mom's ring. Three years later, after record-breaking snowfall the previous winter, it had still been on the branch. There's no such thing as coincidence. I felt like this was the universe's way of showing me that Keely couldn't hurt me anymore,

and that my mom was still with me. I was able to set down the heaviest baggage I brought with me on this trip and move on. I put the ring on my finger knowing that my mom had enjoyed her Alaskan adventure and now she could come back home. That trail held more healing for me than any other trail I have ever hiked. I can't wait to go back again one day wearing the ring and bring my mom along for another exciting Alaska visit. Enjoy the view and watch your back. Until next time, Kristen. Wow, what a beautiful story.

I know. And the fact that it was still there. I know. And it's like it's one thing to know the general area of where you live. left something, the general trail, the spot on the trail, but I mean, especially up in Alaska. Yeah. There's so many trees and there's so many, especially like years later and like you said with all the weather and changes and it's difficult to find an exact spot unless there's this huge

landmark nearby, which it seems like there wasn't really. But even after three years, like your memory kind of falters a little bit and to go there and to go there with people and to find it is just it's really nice. Yeah, I feel like a lot of pieces fell together for that to happen. And I really enjoyed that one. No such thing as coincidences. All right. My next story is titled, Two Snakes in the Columbia River Gorge. Hi, Danielle and Cassie. I've been an avid solo hiker and traveler since I was 21. I got tired of boyfriends and friends canceling last minute or saying they'd love to join for hike, but then ghosting me when I try and actually schedule something. So, to my parents' dismay, I started hiking alone all over the Pacific

Northwest. I've been very fortunate to really only have two scary experiences. Once I got lost near Mount Hood and hiked over 30 miles in the dark, with only my Canon Rebel camera light to guide me, but that's another story. The second scary experience was last spring at Catherine Creek Trail in Columbia River Corridge. I set out for a 10-mile loop to see wildflowers and kick off the summer hiking season. I am rarely lucky enough to see wildlife, so when I'm a saw rattlesnake warnings at the trailhead, I didn't think much of it. Of course, about two minutes into my hike, a massive rattlesnake slithered across the trail just a few feet in front of me and caused me quite the startle. I personally love reptiles, so while I was spooked, I felt incredibly

lucky to see such an amazing creature. I continued my hike for the next 10-ish miles, both hyper-aware of my surroundings, so I wouldn't get startled again by a snake and on a bit of a high for my unexpected lucky sighting. The last fourth of a mile down the trail is a descent down to a totally exposed hill with no tree cover. I could see the parking lot for about 15 minutes as I descended, which also unfortunately meant those in the parking lot could see me and the complete lack of other hikers around me. I noticed a white pickup truck idling in the lot and my spidey senses went off. It was about 4 p.m. and my car was the only other one in the lot. I had to walk past the truck to get to my car. As my back was to the truck, I heard the door open and thought, oh shit, here we go. I turned around

and a man in a t-shirt with a gun logo on it, walked out and began following me to my car. I realized he had been sitting in his truck watching me descend and knew I was completely alone, so I couldn't use my go-to lie that my non-existent boyfriend was right behind me. The man asked me how my hike was, introduced himself as Jeremy, and asked if I'd like to, quote, continue my hike a little longer with him. I kept walking to my car without turning my back to him, and all I could think was, put the car in between him and my body. My bear spray was in my backpack where I couldn't reach it, since it never occurred to me that I'd have to use it on something other than a bear. I quickly told the man that I can't go on a hike with him since I was already late to the campsite nearby. I was sharing with a friend, a complete lie, but I heard on a true crime podcast that I should make him think, people would notice my absence and call the police if I would relate.

I jumped in my car and sped off, terrified he'd follow me. I have a very recognizable car with a hot pink paddleboard strapped to the top. So I drove to the nearest small town about 15 minutes away and found a hidden lot to park in and call the police. Luckily for me, the story ends there. I saw one snake at the beginning of my hike and a second snake at the end. I'd take the rattlesnake encounter any day over a man following me into the wilderness. I guess to quote the popular meme, I'd choose the bear. But in this case, it was actually a snake.

I'm proud that I handled the situation well and stayed calm. but in the future I'll keep my bear spray handy at all times. I realized the man was absolutely not in hiking clothes, so he probably picked that trailhead since he could watch female hikers descend and be certain there alone before he approached. I'd imagine he's done this before and probably will again, so I shared my experience in my local women's hiking Facebook group. One last thing I'd like to point out is that most women were horrified when I shared my experience,

but several men told me, quote, he didn't actually do anything to you. He just asked if you'd like to go hiking with him. Well, men, my advice to you is do not approach women alone in the wilderness. This is not the time to ask a lady out on a date, even if you have good intentions. Thanks for reading my story and for sharing so many others like it. Enjoy the view, but watch your back. There's more than one kind of snake out there, Katie.

The part that gets me the most is the justification. Yeah, he didn't do anything. It's like, yeah, because I acted quickly. I didn't give him the opportunity. to do anything. And that is creepy in itself. I would never walk up to a stranger walking down the hill and be like, do you want to extend your hike and go out in the wilderness with me? That's creepy. I wouldn't even if the hottest man alive, you know what I mean? Like, there's no way. If Dave Franco, well, that's probably a bad example because I might. You wouldn't be like, do you want to walk alone

with me in the woods? You'd be like, hey, hey, you are so stunning. Do you want to go get a coffee in a public place with me. I would say, thank you so much. I would love to. You're also so stunning. But yeah, there's no. And I just don't understand like why that's such a repeated story we hear in so many different, with so many different variations, but it's essentially at its core, the same thing. And what is the success rate? Zero percent. Zero percent. That is the success rate unless someone is scared and then you think that they are like walking with you but they're actually just nervous and didn't say no because they're afraid for their life and uncomfortable yeah and maybe there's like we'll give it 1% because maybe there's someone out there that it worked on but no like I think

and there's a lot of really wonderful men out there too but like like this person said and it do not approach women alone and I think there's a lot of things that men can do to make women feel more comfortable in the outdoors. And especially on trails, something that I've really appreciated that men have done is if they're walking behind me and they're walking faster, they'll be like, oh, I'm coming up behind you on your left. I'm like, oh, okay, move to the right instead of silently walking up. And it's just a nice common courtesy, especially if you're alone and you're a man walking outside to make a woman feel more comfortable. It's such an easy thing to do and just keep on going. And yeah, don't ask a woman to at night at 4 p.m.

to walk alone in the wilderness with you when you're clearly not hiking also. Yeah, that's going to be a no. Let's just say it'll be a no. And follow them to their car. Get out of your car and then follow them to their car. No. Yeah. Let's cut that out.

Okay, my last story also involves a snake. What kind of snake? I think a real one. Okay. The title is a cliff, a snake, and some cocaine, the origin of hang time. Hi, Cassie and Danielle. My name is Anthony, and I started listening to your podcast. about a year ago, but I had to take a long break after making the mistake of listening to

the Timothy Treadwell episode in the dark right before bed. I'm listening to Trail Trial-27 as I'm typing this, so I figured it was time to share a tale of my own. Also, I just wanted to let Danielle know that when I first listened to episode 69, I bawled my eyes out and I hope you are still doing well and healing. Thank you, Anthony. Sorry to make you cry. It was a warm May evening at Deep Creek Hot Springs in the Angeles National Forest. I was 300 miles in to my PCT through hike and after being scared shitless by a massive surprise rattlesnake earlier in the day, I figured that camping and soaking at the hot springs would help settle my nerves. When I arrived, I noticed that the crowd at the hot springs was kind of sketchy.

Mostly a bunch of hairy dudes clearly drugged out. I figured it would be safest to set up camp in a somewhat secluded area. After all, everything in my backpack was my livelihood at that point. I decided to roll out my sleeping bag and cowboy camp under the stars on a small ledge I found that was about as wide as a car and overlooking one of the pools and a river nearby. It was a beautiful spot. Just to be safe, I laid down and attempted to roll around just to make sure I wouldn't roll off in my sleep. Yeah, okay. As I watched the sunset from my spot, I watched a man in some of his friends cross the river. Hey, do you know if you can camp here?

He asked. Oh yeah, there's a bunch of good spots, I replied. I climbed down from my ledge and helped them find a spot and we talked for a bit. He revealed he was a former Marine visiting the area for a weekend. Then I went to soak for a bit before climbing into my sleeping bag and falling asleep. My dreams were surprisingly vivid that night. I was in an all-white space, all alone except for a massive rattlesnake and it was angry. It attempted to strike at me, so I jumped back, so it barely missed me. Little did I know that I had actually narrowly escaped death. I began to wake up and was so confused.

The ground was smushy? I sat up quickly and began to sink. How the fuck did I get in the river? Oh, shit. I looked up at the cliff that I had just rolled off in my sleep. I attempted to drag my sleeping bag to shore, but my vision started to fade to black. Oh my God, I hit my head and now I'm going blind. I put my hands to my eyes. Oh, is it just, what is that? Blood? I started to feel dizzy. Blood was pouring out of a large gash on my forehead. And then I remembered my ex-marine friend from the day before. He would probably know how to treat trauma wounds. Help, help, I screamed. My

face was covered in blood as I stumbled to his camp in the dark, and thankfully he was up doing coke and drinking by the fire at three in the morning. Jesus Christ. Oh my God. Anthony, are you okay? I thought I was having a flashback. Dude, lay down. I'll be, I'll be right over. I did what he said and started to feel very cold, even though it was 60 degrees Fahrenheit outside. He rushed over, took off his shirt, and bunched it up onto my head. Okay, hold this here real quick. I'm going to wake my girlfriend up to help. His girlfriend came out and he got her to hold pressure, while he tried to figure out how to contact emergency services. There was no signal near the springs because we are in a deep canyon,

but he ended up running over a mile and a half barefoot up to the top of the canyon to call for help. Thank you, cocaine. By this point, I was shivering. I felt cold inside my body, so his girlfriend stuck me into one of the hot springs to warm me up. Looking back on this, I think I had started to go into shock. Around six in the morning, I could hear a large group of people from my pool. It was the rescue team, and by the time they had reached me,

I had warmed back up and the bleeding had stopped. So, where did you fall from? The chief asked. I pointed to the cliff that we estimated was about 15 feet tall, which I could now see in the daylight was spattered with my blood. Damn, she said, Wow, looks like you got a lot of hang time in there, didn't you? I knew in that moment that I had found my trail name.

I had tried to go by Redwood, but according to PCT lore, naming yourself as bad luck. And clearly, that held true for me. I ended up hiking out with the rescue team, and they took me to the closest hospital where they cleaned my wounds and determined I had miraculously not received a concussion, though I ended up having a very bad black eye. My dad, who lived a couple hours away, came and picked me up from the hospital

and nurtured me back to health and built me back up. I ended up continuing the trail two weeks later, and I finished it about four months later. Months later, and hundreds of miles down the trail, I would introduce myself to other hikers, and several times I would get, oh, yeah, are you that guy that fell off the cliff? Some guy later even tried to rename me Wet Dream. It's like emoji. Like the flat face emoji. That's so clever, though.

It's very clever, but an awful nickname to have. It's so funny. Where did I hear this? I think someone, we either read it in a book or someone told us this, but someone was hiking the PCT with their cat and it hung out in this like little. pocket thing that he made for it if it wasn't walking. So his trail name became pocket pussy. That is good. That's good. Like, it's so clever. Okay, anyway, I learned my lesson on risk management and now only sleep inside a tent in areas I can drive stakes into the ground. Enjoy the view,

but pick good campsites, Anthony. What a story, aka hang time. Hang time. No, it's hang time. We're just giving you shit. Wow, what is the story? That is so scary to just like wake up falling off a cliff. And have no idea what the hell happened and like smashed head bleeding. But thankfully someone was around doing coke. Yeah, because they got they got you help way faster than if they had not been doing coke. We don't endorse doing coke. But if we did, our code would be NPAD at checkout. Oh, goodness. Is that it? That's all of our stories for this week. So thank you, everyone, for writing into us.

If you have never written in a trail tale to us before and you're interested, you can go on our website, NPADPodcast.com, and there's a submission form right on there. We love hearing them. They can be anything under the sun, outdoor related, outdoor adjacent, whatever, ghost, alien, whatever. If you think it's relevant, send it in. We love reading them. We love telling them. And we really appreciate everyone hanging out and listening. And we'll see outsiders for your two bonus stories.

Everyone else, enjoy the view. But watch you back. Bye. 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 online. 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 npadpodcast.com. And please rate, review, and subscribe from wherever you listen to podcasts. You're listening to this podcast, so I know you've got a curious mind. Here's a helpful fact you may not know yet.

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