National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 70

Episode Date: May 22, 2025

Today’s stories include life saving coolers, Fyre festival honeymoons, ripples in the space/time continuum, laughing lights, weird guys in the woods and a wilderness medicine origin story. Outsiders Only bonus stories available for Patreon and Apple Subscribers!Listen to Watch Her Cook on Apple and Spotify! Follow us on InstagramFor the latest NPAD updates, group travel details, merch and more, follow us on npadpodcast.com and our socials at:Instagram: @nationalparkafterdarkTwitter/X: @npadpodcastTikTok: @nationalparkafterdarkSupport the show by becoming an Outsider and receive ad free listening, bonus content and more on Patreon or Apple Podcasts. Want to see our faces? Catch full episodes on our YouTube Page!Thank you to the week’s partners!Discover Moab: Find a list of lodging options and guide companies to plan your trip today at DiscoverMoab.com.3 Day Blinds: For their buy 1 get 1 50% off deal, head to 3DayBlinds.com/NPAD.Skylight: Go to SkylightCal.com/NPAD for $30 off your 15 inch Calendar.Armchair Explorer: Listen every week wherever you get podcasts.Factor: Use our link and code npad50off to get 50% off your first box plus free shipping. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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

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

Those sandals you can wear all day and all night. And you've had enough of shopping from your couch. Done hoping it looks anything like the picture when you tear up on that envelope. It's time for a little in-person spring treat. It's time for a trip to Ross. Work your magic. Hello, everyone, and welcome back to National Park After Dark. I'm Danielle. And I'm Cassie, and you're listening to Trail Tales. If you're new here, this is our Thursday

episodes where we come on here and we read stories that you have all submitted to us. And usually they take place in the outdoors or something creepy, paranormal in a weird house. Yeah, that's been the vibe. I did ask for family lore last time or the time before something. And I saw people wrote in. Yeah. But there's none in this episode. Oh, sorry. Well, just something to look forward to. Keep a look out for that. If you have some family lore, you want to add into our Trail Tales edition.

Cool. Well, do you want to go first? How did you know? Is it because you heard me start to say that? I'll go first today. Okay. Go ahead. Tell me a story.

This story is titled Weird Guy in the Woods. Perfect. Before I jump into my trail tale, I just wanted to start with a big thank you. My wife and I have been longtime fans of this podcast. We've been meaning to share this story. story for a while now. We really appreciate the way you highlight women's voices and advocate for representation. It hits home for me especially, being the dad of a four-year-old daughter. Back in our early 20s, my wife and I were living the van life dream. We traveled all over the U.S. and Canada,

visiting nearly every national park along the way. These days, we're a little more settled down, but we love reliving those adventures through your podcast. You help keep that spark alive for us. So with that said, here's our tale. It was September of 2014. I remember the date very clearly, and you'll understand why soon. My wife and I were headed to her family's vacation home in the Poconos for a weekend escape. Most Fridays after work, we'd pack up the car with our dog and some supplies and head out of the city. For those unfamiliar, the Poconos are a region in northeastern Pennsylvania, full of dense woods and rolling hills. Mountains might seem like a generous term, but it's a beautiful, peaceful area, popular with folks from Philly and New York looking to unplug for the weekend.

That Friday, traffic was heavier than usual. There were cops everywhere, but we figured it was just the usual Friday night stuff. DUI's, congestion, people rushing to get out of town. Eventually, we made it to the house. We had a couple drinks, threw a frozen pizza in the oven, as one does, and went to bed. The next morning, we were up early. That's our weekend routine, coffee and breakfast together. Then my wife dives into schoolwork and online classes, and I, well, I go fishing. I'm not some rugged outdoorsman or survivalist. I just really, really. really like hiking and fishing. The Poconos are perfect for that, with endless trails, lakes, and pockets of wilderness. On this particular morning, I decided to check out a spot in a nearby state game land. And for those outside of Pennsylvania, these are large tracks of public lands that are open for hunting and fishing. They're more remote and far less traffic than regular parks, which is part of what I love about them. I drove a short way and pulled into a quiet gravel trailhead. The signage was faded and the lot was empty. I checked the board to make sure hunting season hadn't started yet. It hadn't. So I set off down the five-mile trail, aiming for a lake

at the end. When I hike solo, I usually bring my bear mace and play some music on a little Bluetooth speaker. Not because it scares bears, I know it doesn't, but just to let any wildlife or people know that I was coming. Plus, it keeps me feeling from two alone out there. I hadn't gotten more than half a mile in when I rounded a bend and nearly ran straight into a man. We startled each other. He was big, mustached, wearing a camo hat and tight, light-washed jeans. But what really caught my attention, though, were the two guns holstered at his sides. No backpack, no water bottle, no jacket, just guns. It was odd. Hunting season was still weeks away, and my car was the only one in the lot. How did he even get here? Still, this was rural Pennsylvania.

People carry guns, and they take their Second Amendment very seriously. I tried to brush it off, but I would be lying if I said it didn't rattle me a bit. We passed each other in silence, eyes over our shoulders until we were out of view. I pushed on, trying to shake the unease. A mile or so later, the trail opened up into a series of hills. From the top, I could see movement ahead, two figures walking dogs. As I got closer, the scene became clearer, two men, each with a large German shepherd. When the dog spotted me, they lost it, snarling, barking, straining against their leashes.

The men didn't say a word. No apology, no acknowledgement, just cold stairs. What the fuck? I yelled, more startled than anything, but they just said nothing and kept walking. It was surreal. I remember thinking, why is this trail so suddenly busy at 6 a.m? Still fuming, I picked up the pace and made it the rest of the way to the lake. Thankfully, it was as serene as I had hoped, blanketed in a morning fog, still and quiet. I set up camp, chair, rods, a small fire, and a hot cup of coffee. After a couple cups, nature called so I stepped off the trail into the woods to pee. And that's when I heard it. Faint engines and beeping in the distance. Suddenly, I felt watched. The kind of primal unease that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. But I told myself to just stay calm. When you're alone in the woods, you have to stay calm. I finished up, shook it off, and went back to my fire. Not long after, I heard the sound of an engine again. A green pickup truck rumbled down the trail. Strange, since I hadn't realized vehicles could even get back there. It had Pennsylvania Fish and Game Commission printed on the side in yellow.

My first thought, great. They're going to hassle me about the fire or check my license. But instead, the officers rolled down their window and asked, Morning, how's the fishing? Not too bad, I said. How about you guys? They didn't answer. Just another question.

Have you seen anyone else out here today? Anything unusual? I told them about the hiker that I had seen. Why? I asked. No reason, one said. Just doing our rounds. They handed me a card and said, Call us if you see anything else that seems off, and then drove away.

And that, that was enough weirdness for one morning. Between the armed guy, the dogs, and now the cryptic game officers, I decided I was done for the day. I hiked out quickly, drove home, and tried to shake the feeling. Later that night, just as my wife and I were getting into bed, my phone rang. It was my mom, which was unusual, especially that late, so I figured I should probably pick up. She sounded anxious right off the bat.

You guys aren't in the mountain house. are you? Uh, yeah, why? There was a pause. And then she said, there's a sniper, a guy on the run. He killed a state trooper, and it's all happening right near the house. Oh, God. At first, I thought maybe she was overreacting or misreading something on the news. Coming from a big, dramatic Italian family, this kind of behavior doesn't exactly raise eyebrows. But I opened my laptop and typed a few words into Google. Within seconds, there it was. Front page headlines. A man named Eric Freen had ambushed a Pennsylvania state police barracks. One officer was dead, another was in critical condition, and Eric had vanished into the woods.

The same woods I'd been hiking throughout that morning. Suddenly, the whole day came into focus. The strange encounters on the trail, the dogs, the camouflage guy with the guns, the gay mordons with their cryptic questions, it just all clicked. To make things worse, the house we were staying in had this huge glass sliding door that looked over the forest, and the lock had been broken for months. We had meant to fix it, but hadn't gotten around to it. They always say sliding glass doors are like the worst doors to have.

And I have always had a sliding glass door in almost every single house I've ever lived in. I've never heard that. But they're the worst doors to have. Yeah, they're like, I think it's just something about the ease of access they can provide. And that's why you always want like a wooden dowel. Yeah, I've always seen that you have those or the metal ones just so you can lock them so you can't open it. But I guess the thing with a glass door is that they're easy to break. Not easy to break, but.

Right. Pretty cool. That night, as we lay there trying to sleep, we started seeing lights sweeping through the trees. First faint and then brighter and brighter. It wasn't flashlights. It was a search helicopter, scanning the hillside with a spotlight that eventually lit up our back door like it was center stage. It was clear that the FBI had the same thought we did. If you were trying to hide, this community, mostly empty vacation homes tucked into the

the woods was the perfect place to do it. We didn't wait around to find out. We grabbed our dog, packed up in record time, and hit the road, driving fast down dark, winding mountain roads until we reached the highway and fell at least somewhat out of reach. Later, we found out just how close we had been. Eric Freen had been spotted several times in the exact area I had hiked that morning. He was eventually captured a few miles from our house, hold up in an old airplane hangar. They found his makeshift campsite scattered through those same woods, filled with ammo, explosives, even a journal where he wrote about the attack in disturbing detail. Every now and then, I think back to that hike and wonder, if I had taken a different turn or

stayed just a little longer at that lake, would I have crossed paths with him? It's one of those things you tried to not dwell on, but it definitely stays with you. Anyway, hope you liked my story. Enjoy the view, but watch out for weird dudes in the woods with guns. Wow, that's a close encounter. Like that was that scary. And the whole time when you were telling the story, I was thinking that the first person that they came across that was just carrying guns and walking around was sketchy. And then I was thinking maybe this was Eric and it was going to come around. But now it makes sense that they were seeing police officers. They were seeing, they were seeing the police dogs that were in the woods. And it, yeah, all kind of comes together. I thought for a second,

they encountered the act, Eric was the first guy. But I don't, I guess maybe not. I don't think so. I feel like he would have been violent. Yeah. And it sounds like I think that they would have said that because I'm sure this person's face was plastered everywhere. Right.

After that. So I'm sure they would have said that. But I, I'm guessing it was just police officers who are acting very, I don't know, I feel like if there's something going on and you're searching for a very violent person in the woods and you see someone alone walking. walking in the woods to hike. You should say, hey, we have an active investigation. There's someone who just killed a police officer. We believe they're around here. It would be better if you stayed out of this area. Like, you know, like, I feel like for public safety, you should tell people

what's happening. You would think that, but I feel like we hear in different stories, especially years ago. Maybe the protocol has changed. But there's a lot of, like, mums the word about that. Like everything is kind of kept under wraps to not cause public panic or whatever. Like we, you know, I don't. I mean, which is a valid point. I mean, but I think that there's a difference between public panic where if you're, if you go to the lake and there's 40 people there and you're like, hey, there's a mass murderer on the loose. Everyone's going to get up screaming, you know. But if there's one singular person alone and vulnerable in the woods, I feel like even if you don't give details like, hey, this is an active.

investigation, we suggest that you leave. And not give, like, further detail, fine. But I don't know. I just think I would be really upset if I was walking in the woods and I saw all these weird things and I was totally alone. And then I found out that there was a, I was really close to someone who was very violent and the police did nothing to try and protect me. Yeah.

Totally valid. And it's not like, yeah, you're screaming fire in a crowded theater as far as. Yeah. Well. glad they're okay. Yeah, me too. This episode is brought to you by Prime. Obsession is in session.

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chemistry you can feel through the screen. Your next obsession is waiting. Watch only on Prime. Well, that was a really interesting story. My story, my first story of this episode is titled, A Little Blue Cooler Saved My Life. Hi, Cassie and Danielle, I love the pod. You all have kept me company on my long commutes to and from work for the past years. I work as a college professor and have shared your pod with colleagues as a resource

for talking about environmental issues in their classes. My story is a survival story with maybe some supernatural flavorings. Before I get into it, two things aren't. important to know. One, we were too ignorant without realizing our ignorance, which led to common sense to not even show up on our radars. Two, canoeing with a partner is a real good test of a relationship. We failed that test. Canoeing is a real, is a real test of a relationship. Al and I have gotten into arguments on canoes. It's the ultimate teamwork, you know? You have to be in sync and And yeah, yeah.

When I was 20, which was a long time ago, 1900s, in fact, my partner at the time and I decided to rent a canoe from an outfitter on the St. Croix River in Minnesota. National Park tie-in here is that the river is part of the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway. We were going to paddle about seven miles down river from Taylor's Falls, where we rented our gear to Osceola Landing. It was mid-May and a beautiful sunny spring day, with a little bristness in the air. We loaded the canoe, a smaller cooler with our lunch in it, and extra sweatshirts. My girlfriend at the time bragged about what a great paddler she was.

In hindsight, the extreme level of bragginess perhaps should have been a red flag. She sat in the front and I was in the back. I should say here that I am by no means an expert at canoeing. I can get in, I can paddle, I can steer enough to not have us crash, and I can balance well enough to not tip over. Anyway, as we're paddling along, my girlfriend keeps leaning way over the side of the canoe to paddle. It was so bad that I couldn't even paddle because I had to work hard to counterbalance since the canoe would tip so much. I asked her nicely and calmly to not lean so much.

She immediately got defensive and my simple request quickly escalated to her yelling at me and I had no idea what I was talking about and how she used to teach girls at camp how to canoe. I wanted to fire back. Well, did they all drown because you suck at this? But I bit my tongue. This is so funny because I- advise you to not say that. I resonate with this so hard. And it's so funny because

there's something about when you go on a canoeing trip with a partner and if you are not on the same page, you don't get over it. This person said this happened in the in the 1900s and you can tell that they're still mad. And that's how I feel about similar.

It's coming through their words. Yeah. And Al and I have had a couple We don't do tandem kayaking or anything because we just, that is a place where we throw hands. Okay. That's where you draw the line. That's where our relationship draws the line. But it's just so funny.

I just really resonate with this already. Okay. Here's where things went even more wrong. I think we were probably doomed from the beginning, but we made this much more difficult. This was nearly 30 years ago when we still got regular action. winters with measurable snow in Minnesota. Then in the spring, all the snowmelt made our rivers wider and more faster flowing. We ended up getting off the main channel of the river thinking it would be pretty to paddle in the trees, and it was beautiful and peaceful. But the arguments my girlfriend and I

had about paddling techniques didn't result in any helpful changes, and as you probably guessed, we tipped. And if we didn't make this nearly impossible already in our ignorance, and remember what I said at the beginning about common sense being out the window, we weren't wearing our PFDs. So we were in the water. Our canoe is mostly sunk. We were still holding on the edge of it. And our PFDs, paddle and cooler got carried off by the very fast moving current. My girlfriend had put her extra sweatshirt on and when we tipped, she was having a hard time not getting swamped by it. So I helped pull it off her and it too went down the river. When we were in the water, I remember thinking, well, fuck. Panic had not set in as

I think I was in a state of some kind of shock. Like, did this really actually just happen? My mind was swirling all over the place, and I couldn't form any kind of coherent thought. It wasn't until I saw how badly my girlfriend was shivering. The water was really cold, and she was a very petite person. I knew at that moment we had to figure something out. And I knew we had to try and get back to the main channel of the river if we were to stand any chance of another canoe or boat seeing us.

My hope was diminishing quickly because we had gotten quite a little. a ways off the main channel, and we hadn't seen any other boats of any kind that day. I ended up seeing a place we could veer off to the left toward the main channel. There were more trees and down limbs, so I thought at least we could try and tangle ourselves up there enough to maybe climb a tree and get out of the water. We were still holding onto the canoe, which was mostly underwater. We managed to kick frantically and steer ourselves into the web of trees. There was a limb down in the water, and I thought if we could get the canoe on the other side of it,

I could bail out the water. So we sunk the canoe under the limb and pulled with all of our might to come back up on the other side. Somehow we were able to do that. I got up on the down limb, kneeling, and all I had were my own two hands to make a cup and bail the water out as quickly as I could. While my girlfriend, with her bluing lips, continued to shiver so badly. With my knees and my back screaming at me as I had no other support other than to try and stay balanced on this floating limb and bail water out, I frantically worked to get the water out. Then I feel something tap my foot. I turn around and there was our little blue cooler.

The last time I saw that thing, I was traveling down the river with everything else. I immediately grabbed it, dumped its contents out into the river. Hopefully Mother Nature will forgive me for polluting in that instance and used it as a bucket to clear out the canoe. After some time, I was finally able to get enough water out that we could get back in and try to get back to the main channel and head downstream. Now, if you remember, I had referenced losing only one paddle when we tipped. Somehow, we managed to hang on to the other one.

Using all the extra energy I could muster, I paddled us as fast as I could downstream to Osceola Landing. We got there, got out of the canoe, and piled in the van to head back to our car. And by this time, others had arrived so there were a number of boats that staff needed to load up. Not one of them asked us where the rest of our year was. Now, I'm not a religious person. If anything, I'd say I'm pretty agnostic. But even in my agnosticism, I am convinced that something or someone was watching after us that day. I have no way to explain how our cooler ended up at my foot when we both saw it heading downriver.

And it wasn't some other random cooler because it still had our lunch in it. I shuddered to think what would have happened if that thing didn't somehow make its way back to us. My father loved to canoe the St. Croix River. He did it regularly either by himself or with his brother. When I was 12, he and I did a trip down the river. together. It was the first and only time we did that. He passed away unexpectedly when I was 16. You both have talked about how there are no coincidences. And the more I have listened to your pod and your own experiences, the more I have come to believe that too. As I think back on the story,

I wonder more and more if it was my father that saved us that day. That's my story. Lessons learned, where you're your PFD, know some basics about understanding water conditions, and don't get off the main channel of a fast-moving river if you don't know what you're doing. Lastly, if you can't canoe together peacefully, get out of that relationship. Oh, no. And no, thankfully, I am not with that person anymore. My now wife and I canoe very well together. Anyway, thanks for sharing my story.

Enjoy the view, but watch your back because you never know when a little blue cooler will show up there to bail you out figuratively and quite literally. Sean. Well, you have some thinking to do. You and Al need to get into a canoe and work it out before September 6th. I think we're just going to avoid canoeing together, you know? Okay. We don't need to.

You don't need to do everything together. No, we have a paddleboard and we have a kayak and they're separate and it's great. Well, I think that you had some help from somewhere or someone with that one. But I only, I have one memorable canoe capsizing event and it wasn't nearly as dramatic, but it's kind of seared into my memory because me and my sister. stepdad would go fishing at this like local lake and we would take the canoe out, talk about no help. I was no help.

I was probably making it harder. But yeah, we were canoeing and fishing and something happened. Don't know what, but we capsized. And we were in pretty shallow water. Like he's six, six, so he could stand. And I was freaking out. I don't know what age I was, maybe like. 11 or 12. I was kind of freaking out, whatever. He basically just like writeed it again because he was just like in the muck but standing. He righted it. And when he did, a bunch of water and debris and stuff got in it and it had a turtle had washed inside. Oh. And I begged to keep that turtle. And he's like, yeah. You know what? Hell yeah. So we said yes. And so we brought it home and my mom was like, absolutely.

not. Like, and that's the first time I heard about salmonella and like why you can't keep that. Yeah. So, yeah, we brought it back. But it was an adventure and I think about that turtle a lot. It's just like a little box turtle. I have one cap sizing story too actually that I totally was lost in my memory until the story. It was also with an ex, an ex of mine. And we were canoeing on a A lake. And I don't remember why we capsized. I feel like he was like messing with me, like as a joke or something. And we ended up capsizing. And we also did not have, maybe we did have life jackets. We probably had to because we rented them. So we probably, this was so long ago. This was over 10 years ago. And but what I do remember about that day is that I was really thankful because we were in the middle of the lake. We could see the shore. that we had to get to to bring the canoe back. But we hadn't, there was no one else out there. So there was no one to come help us or anything like that. And I remember being really thankful because I was also the useless one in this scenario because he swam me and the canoe all the way back to the shore.

You couldn't swim? I could swim, but I just like held on and swam like behind the boat. He dragged the whole canoe. Oh. And me pretty much. back because I was I was swimming and I was trying but he was actually the one who got us back. Like there's no way that I could have dragged a cap size canoe back to shore. But he did. And that relationship also didn't work out. But it had nothing to do with that canoe. Imagine when he reflects back, he's like, that was the moment. That whole thing. And the canoe day. Yeah, he's telling the story like this. And I'm like, he saved me. Yeah. You're like, yeah, I barely even remember.

that and it's like what he thinks about. He's like the reason it didn't work out. Yeah. Okay. My next story is titled The Outpost Between Worlds. Hi, Danielle and Cassie. After years of being a faithful listener, I am finally writing in. I'm an outdoors woman based in southwestern Montana and have spent a good part of my adult life chasing adventure in wild places. I've got my fair share of stories. Close calls with grizzlies in Yellowstone, backcountry skiing with mountain goats and glacier, but the one I'm about to share is something entirely different. It's not a classic Lost in the Woods tale. It's not quite supernatural, not exactly time travel, but it lingers in a way none of my other stories do. And truthfully, I've never told anyone before. So here it goes.

I was 23, the oldest guide at an all-girls backpacking camp, full of confidence from weeks in the backcountry. After over 40 straight days in the wilderness, with only brief returns to civilization to swap out groups, I was feeling invincible. Tired, sure, a little sloppy, maybe, but a pro, right? Our final trip of the season was a special one, a hybrid backpacking and horsepacking expedition through Sentinel Valley just west of Yellowstone. The girls in our group alternated hiking and horseback riding, and the guides did too. On this particular day, I was hiking with a group on foot, while the horse group took an alternate route and planned to meet us where the trip. We were heading towards our rendezvous point, an easy, mostly downhill, three-mile stretch on a wide, clearly marked logging trail.

It was a straight shot, no problem. About three-fourths of the way through, we stopped for a water break. Nothing unusual. Spirits were high. We were laughing, relaxed, feeling accomplished at the end of a significant backpacking trip. Then something strange happened. Without any thought or discussion, without any reason, I led the girls off the main trail. There was no indication to go that way, no marker.

I hadn't seen it on the map. I just went and brought six teenage girls with me. I guided us onto a narrow, winding, barely there, overgrown single track. It weaved through a stand of massive boulders and popped us out into a clearing. As soon as we emerged from the rocks, it was like we stepped into a different time. The trail opened up into a wide drainage surrounded by thick woods and cliffs. It was stunning and it was eerie. There, tucked into the landscape like a forgotten memory,

where the remains of an old outpost. Weathered hitching posts, crumbling horse corrals, rusted tools in the grass, the kind of place trappers or miners might have used in the 1800s, and yet it didn't feel abandoned. It felt like whoever had been there had just stepped away for lunch. We stopped for lunch around mile three, assuming we'd just beat the horse group to the meeting spot,

but they didn't show. so we waited and then something shifted i don't know if i fell asleep fainted or slipped out of time altogether but i was no longer in present time i saw the clearing again but it was alive busy i saw a woman in turn of the century settler's clothing she looked directly at me and smiled and then just returned to her work just as quickly i snapped back the girls were still eating but everything felt altered i stood up and abruptly said we need to go back we retransed we retransed traced our steps through the boulders, back to the wide logging road, and hiked quickly towards the correct meeting spot. We found the horse group just a half a mile down the main trail,

visibly shaken, and clearly relieved. That's when I found out we hadn't been 30 minutes late, as I had assumed. We had been missing for four hours. What? The rest of the group had been searching and yelling for us for hours without finding a trace of us, even though we were less than a half a mile away. None of the girls I was with could explain it or account for the time lapse either. And I certainly can't. And my co-guides, let's just say they weren't exactly thrilled with this mystery. I honestly don't know. But years later, I came across a detail that gave me the chills. In 1876, the Point Dexter and Ore Cattle Company brought the first cattle operation to that very valley. One of the ranchers, Rachel Orr, is said to have named it

Sentinel Valley in honor of the nation's 100th year of independence. When I read her name, something deep inside me lit up had I somehow encountered Rachel or herself. I've always had a reverence for women in the wild, those who came before us, who shaped these rugged places with grit and grace. That day changed something in me. Maybe Rachel was watching. Maybe she approved of what I was doing, leading girls into the wilderness, teaching them how to move through the mountains with confidence and with strength. Thank you for creating a space for the stories that don't quite fit into any one box. This one's been sitting in my bones for over 15 years, and it feels really good to finally let it breathe. Wow.

That is, we've, I've never heard a story like that that we've told on the podcast, and that is so interesting. I know. It feels so unexplainable, but it's just, how do you, how do you think you sit down for lunch for 30 minutes and you're gone for 30 minutes and there's four hours and you have this weird experience during it? And none of the people you're with can explain it either. They also think they're gone for 30 minutes. Yeah. That entire group.

And just like the inexplicable after 40 days of doing this, just randomly getting up and being like, we're going to go over here. Just totally diverge from the plan. When you clearly know the trail, you've been here. Yeah. And the only time that we've even touched upon time lapses or missing time, I think is when we've talked about extraterrestrial or, you know. UFO encounters or things like that, especially hearkening back to the Al-Gash-FOR. But this feels like interdimensional. Yes.

It feels like a ripple in time or like a rip in the dimensions or something like that, just like a peek through because, you know, the whole like quantum theory type of interdimensional thing. And I forget exactly what it's called, but the theory that essentially all time is happening at once, like the past and present and future are not that. it's just how we perceive it and it's actually everything is happening all at one time. So like that explains like a rip in time you're just seeing into a different version of this world. Yeah.

And so what we perceive as the past and Rachel Orr in 1870 something is really happening now at the same time that her and her group were there. And that's like that little glimpse was just like kind of this fluctuation of, I don't know. It's just so interesting. And I think that that's quite the experience to have. And I wonder if those girls think about it too. Yeah. Or if they had an experience that maybe you're not aware of too. Yeah.

In those moments. Yeah. Well, thank you for feeling safe to share it here because we think it's really interesting. Yeah. Thank you so much. Moving on to the next story, mine is titled Honeymoon Adventure for the Ages Fire in Denali National Park. Hi, Danielle and Cassie. My name is Holly and I have been a huge fan of your podcast almost since the beginning.

I found you guys over the summer of 2021 looking for something to listen to coming up to my new job and long commute. I heard the Jenny Lake Ranger episode and was hooked. Yeah, that is very new. That is very, very beginning. So you have been with us the whole time. We believe you. Yeah. You probably don't remember, Danielle, but I reached out to you because I had visited the Wolf and Wildlife Sanctuary,

worked at in Colorado, and you sent me an adorable picture of you with some of the wolves. Oh, that was nice to me. That was nice to me. Sounds like something I'd do. I'll start by saying I am more of an outsidey person than an outdoorsy kind of gal. I'm a little prissy when it comes to being comfortable, sleeping, showers, and plumbing. I feel that. However, I still grew up appreciating nature and hiking every vacation with my family and now with my husband, Carl.

Carl and I just got married right up against the border of Rocky Mountain National Park in Estes in May of 2024 and planned a honeymoon cruise to Alaska. We're not huge fans of the heat, so we wanted a. summer destination that wouldn't be too hot but with lots of outdoor adventures as well so we knew Alaska would be perfect. If you haven't done the cruise through the inner passage, it is so worth it. We did a week on the cruise starting in Vancouver and traveling up with stops in Ketchikan, Juneau and Skagway. The highlight was cruising through Glacier Bay National Park and seeing otters, seals, and glacier calving. After the cruise, we docked in Anchorage and then took the train up to Denali National Park down to Talkeetna and then Kinai Ford's National Park.

The main story I wanted to share starts when we got off the boat and boarded the 180-degree glass dome train to travel from Anchorage to Denali. The train was absolutely stunning and we were quickly rewarded with a clear view of the mountain early on and was visible for a lot of the journey. That's really exciting because you don't see Denali that often. It was really exciting and seemed like a good omen for the land portion of our trip. Spoiler, it wasn't. We make it to Donali in the evening and almost instantly go to bed after wandering around the lodge for a bit, which was run by the Princess Cruise Company. The next morning, we get ready to hike and go on our bus tour through the park and off we go. We were lucky again to get a clear view of the

mountain going through. We did some small little hikes throughout the day. When it was time to turn around, our guide began telling us how lucky we were to get such a clear view because oftentimes in summer, the mountain produces storms or the smoke from wildfires makes the view hazy. And how lucky for us, as he summoned one, we turned around the bend back towards the visitor center and we all stared in horror as the giant plume of black smoke and red flame was evisible not too far off in the distance. The bus driver said there was nothing coming in on the radio, which meant that it wasn't something to worry about yet. And we all hesitantly got off the bus at the visitor center. My husband and I collect stickers from all national parks we go to, so we went to the gift shop before heading to

the main visitor center. We were hoping all was contained, as the driver said, and wanted to get as much time in the park that we could just in case. However, just when we approached the main building, we were immediately told by the rangers to turn around and get back to the buses. The park was being evacuated, and the fire was only a mile out from the entrance. My stomach dropped as we all waited and waited for the buses. With the fire so close to the road, we were were told we may not be able to get back to the lodge for our stuff and might be immediately shipped off to the McKinley Lodge on the other end of the park for evacuation. Holy fuck, our passports and medications are in the hotel.

What the hell are we going to do? My husband and I were beginning to panic a bit as we sat on the bus and waited for any kind of information. We then heard the buzzing of a close by plane and watched as smoke jumpers leaped out almost directly in front of us. Looking back, it was super cool to see those heroes in action. but absolutely terrifying that you could see the people landing because you're so damn close to the fire that they're trying to extinguish.

After almost an hour of waiting and wondering and rising panic, they finally told us they could take us to the lodge. We get back to our room and immediately Carl and I start packing as we're assuming they're going to evacuate us at any minute, seeing as the fire was just 0.5 miles from the lodge. In the middle of packing our things, the lights and air conditioning are cut off. Electricity is completely out and everybody else at the lodge is out on the decks trying to see what's going on. We can see the smoke cloud getting bigger and you can see the wall of flames from across the little creek. Thinking they're about to call an emergency evacuation any second now, we try to refill our water bottles and realize the water was turned off as well.

Carl and I decide to go to the front desk to see what the hell is going on and when we're hopefully leaving. On the way to the main lodge, we run into an employee who tells us there are no plans for evacuation. because of the quote river between us and the fire. They had the gall to call it a goddamn river. I could throw a stone from one end to the other. It was a tiny strip of moving water. But okay, we totally believe you. That's so frustrating and scary.

With nothing else to do, we head back to our room to be near our stuff just in case. We're sharing binoculars with our neighbors and looking at the giant flames and the planes, dropping water and the fire retardant. My husband and I had two bottles of champagne we won on the cruise that we had brought with us and with no electricity to preserve it, we decided to indulge to try and calm our nerves. I have a hilarious picture of Carl drinking straight from the bottle in front of the flames that I will attach and feel free to share. Another few hours pass and we go in to acquire about any other changes and to ask about food,

water, and a bathroom. We discover they brought in a few porta-potties for the time being. And by a few, there ended up being five total for five. 500 guests. Disgusting. It's like the, what is it, like the fire festival. I was just thinking that too. It's like here's a sandwich. Literally a fire festival. Yeah. For food, since everything was going to spoil, they had a massive barbecue for everyone with beef, chicken, and veggie burgers. Finally, things are looking up with the prospect of food and our two bottles of champagne. We order food and they come back with the most dry and disgusting chicken burgers we've ever had.

and then stick us with a bill of $25 per shitty burger. Are you serious? You can't charge for food when you are not giving hotel guests bathrooms. Yeah. I understand the audacity. There's like extenuating circumstances and stuff. But yeah, you can't charge people. It's like, yeah, you're doing the best you can, given the circumstances, everything's on fire.

But don't charge people for that. Yeah, you can't charge people for that when they don't have electricity. running water or bathroom in the hotel that they have paid to stay at. Yeah, Porta Potty's are, I can't do them. I would rather go in the woods 1,000 percent. Just yeah, everything about portopodies. And I think it stems from, was it jackass or wild boys when it must have been jackass in the early 2000s. When they put him in the porta potty and like rolled them down the hill. Or like just catapulted him into the air or something. I don't know what it was. It makes me want to throw up right now. Like there's something about human.

excrement that just makes me that's my line that's my line in the sand i just can't do it i can't do it man i can dissect animals i can clean whatever comes out of them but i can do whatever when it comes to people get away from yeah portobodies i can do a porta potty if it's necessary and hopefully it's well cleaned but if i'm staying at a hotel to avoid those kind of like you know if you're camping and there's a porta potty it's like okay i get it's like i get it's it. But if you're in a nice hotel and they're making you use a port-a-potty, that is, like, you paid for more than that. Yeah. You're sounding outsidey right now. That's very outsidey of you to say. Thank you, I think. Anyway, going back into the story, they had really nice restaurants

when there wasn't a natural disaster happening, but were only able to serve crappy burgers with a few chips on the side while letting everything else on their menu go to waste. Upside-downsby-face. To recap, there's a wildfire, 0.5 miles from our location, no electricity or plumbing, only five nasty porta-potties, and they're charging us $50 for garbage crisis burgers. We agree with you, clearly. At this point, we're hot, exhausted, hungry, and I'm completely trashed from my bottle of champagne. We then go back to our room and try to sleep for the night. Cold take of champagne and forgot about that. The next day, we were already scheduled to leave, and we were given the all-clear to load up the

bus and head out. After almost two days of traveling, hiking, sweating, the bus ride was almost enough to make me want to take my chances with the fire lodge rather than the many stinky unshowered people on the bus. But we all boarded the buses and were off to the town of Talkeetna where our rooms weren't ready for us because of the guests who were supposed to move on to Denali, but couldn't because the park was closed. The bright side of all of this is that our Talkeetna excursion was visiting the Iditarod running dog sled kennel where I got to meet the dog. pet the puppies and got peed on by one of the pups. Totally worth it. Thank you for reading my trail tale and keep up the wonderful work, Holly. Holly, if you can get through that in your honeymoon,

I think you're laying some pretty strong foundational work for your marriage. Yeah, congrats. And Talkeena is so, like, it's hard to be upset in Talkeena. Yeah. Talkeena is such a special place. It really is. I love it there. Okay. That was a lot. Well, my last story is actually also Alaska-based. Cool. I love Alaska. This last story of mine is titled Dad's 50th State and the Lights That Spoke Back. Hi, Cassie and Danielle. My wife, Becky, is a National Park After Dark outsider and has no idea we are submitting this story. Gotta have some surprises left after being married for 20 years, right? Love it. Oh, surprise, Becky. Our sons and I love hearing her favorite episodes whenever we do a family road trip. You've been in the car with us on many adventures.

Thank you for creating some epic content focused on some of our favorite topics. Our youngest son, Gavin, thought you would both appreciate hearing this tale. Dad passed away very unexpectedly in June of 2017. He was just 62 years old. He had a brain aneurysm struck out of nowhere and a week later he was gone. He was my hero and one of my biggest mentors, one of my best friends. And he was incredibly close with our sons, his grandsons. His death hit our entire family hard.

About a year after he passed, I was going through old. text messages when I came across one that stopped me in my tracks. It said, well, guys, I'm down to one state yet to set foot in, Alaska. We're in Nevada tonight and on to Oregon tomorrow. He was so close. One state shy of a dream he had chased for years, visiting all 50 states. And somehow, he had left Nevada for number 49, which still cracks me up. I immediately called my brother. We started talking about that message about dad, and almost jokingly, I said, What if we take some of his ashes to Alaska? Let him hit number 50.

You know those moments where a silly idea suddenly turned serious because deep down, it's exactly what you need to do. Within minutes, we were both pleading with our wives, asking for permission like little kids, hoping for a sleepover. Except this one involved plane tickets, rental cars, and a cabin thousands of miles away. Thankfully, our wives are amazing and they were fully on board. We booked the trip for Labor Day weekend. We flew into Anchorage, drove to Seward.

Our rental home sat just off a beautiful bay nestled in the mountains. The view from the patio was breathtaking, and we knew instantly, Dad would have loved this place. We hiked in Kenai Fjord's National Park. We took a cruise. We saw killer whales, puffins, and salmon. We shared stories. We had space to be alone and space to be together. Through it all, dad was there. You could feel him. Sometimes I could have sworn he was standing right next to me. Then came Saturday, September 1st, 2018. About 9.45 at night, the sun had dipped just enough to turn the sky deep blue behind the mountains. That's when Gavin, my son, walked into the bay and scattered some of his grandpa Pete's ashes into the water.

In that little moment on the edge of the bay, Dad finally reached his 50th state. We returned to the cabin and gathered on the deck, lights on, stories flowing, belly laughs rolling. Dad would have loved that night, just family, laughing, living, and remembering. Then something strange happened. As we were sharing a moment of laughter, the deck lights started pulsing. Not flickering, not turning on and off, pulsing like a heartbeat. We all stopped, jaws dropped, and time felt suspended. Someone got up, flipped the switch, turn the lights off. When we turned them back on, they were normal, just regular lights. We nervously joked about it, but we'd been out there the past few nights. Same time, same lights. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Eventually, we settled back in more stories, more laughter, then it happened again. The lights pulsed. Not a glitch, not our imagination. They pulsed again, right as we were laughing. And in that moment, we knew. Dad was with us laughing along, playing one last prank, or maybe reminding us it was getting late and it was time for bed. Here's the kicker. We hadn't realized the name of the bay we'd put

dad's ashes in until right before we arrived in Alaska. Resurrection Bay. Yep, we unintentionally put dad to rest into resurrection bay. It felt like a sign, like confirmation that something bigger was at play. We've always had stories in our family, odd things that happen after someone passes, things that felt too meaningful to be coincidence. But I'll admit, I used to be the skeptic, the guy in the back of the room thinking, maybe it didn't happen exactly like that. But after this, I believe. I believe that those we love are still with us even after they're gone. We just have to slow down, open up, make space for the silence, for the signs, for the laughter, because if we do, really do, we might just feel them again. Thank you both for all of the joy you've brought our family throughout our adventures.

Thank you both so much for using your platform in a powerful and positive way. Please know you are having a profoundly positive impact on the lives of so many. You too are the best. Thanks, Mike. I loved that story. I thought it was beautiful. So sweet. So sweet. And I mean, they say that lights flickering is one of the biggest paranormal signs. So yeah. I think this reminded me it didn't happen to me. But same type of thing after Ian passed away his. So I think I've talked about it before on the show or not. I'm not sure. But him and his family have had a property on an island in one of Maine's lakes for. They, literally bought the property, his family bought the property in the 1800s. Like, it has been there for hundreds of years. And they have a cabin. And now it's kind of like a whole compound. There's a bunch of different little buildings and stuff on it. But pretty basic with no running water or like they have a generator and stuff for electricity. But pretty minimal. No electrical work. Pretty, yeah. And outhouses

and things like that. But anyways. So after his celebration of life where he didn't have a a funeral. He had a celebration of life in our hometown, but also we went up to his family's lake, and that's where we spread his ashes in that lake. And later that summer, his family was out on the porch laughing and sharing stories about him. And just like that was Ian's favorite place to be. And the lights on the porch were flickering when they were talking about him. Yeah. And it's just like, even if it's something electrical or whatever, it's like, don't take. that away from people, like outwardly, you know? Like Mike was saying, like, he was the one in the back of the room, like, thinking to himself, like, maybe. And that's fine. I think you can always have

your doubts and stuff, but to, like, keep it to yourself because for somebody who's taking meaning and comfort and solace out of an experience like that, like don't take that away from somebody, you know? Yeah. And I also just think with this story and your story, I mean, to happen at that exact moment. I know. We always say, you know, I know. No such thing as coincidences. I'm not doubting or taking away from any of that.

I think it's totally real. Yeah, me too. Thanks, Mike, for sharing. Yeah. Yeah. It's special to have a close family like that. Yes. All right, moving to my last story.

Mine is titled, My First Brush with Wilderness Medicine. Hello, Cassie and Danielle. I first want to say that I am a huge fan. I am right in the middle of a move, and your podcast is the perfect thing to keep me company while packing. Your stories are so captivating and informative of the parks that so many love to visit. So much so that I decided to share one of my own trail tales. This took place in the summer of 2017.

I had just obtained my first job in the park service at a state park in the high desert of Oregon. While there, a friend of mine, Justin, contacted me saying he wanted to go whitewater kayaking in the area and was wondering if I would be interested in catching up and camping with him. Justin and I had met the previous winter while contra dancing. I don't know what that is. Contra dancing? Yeah, but I want to know. And had become fast friends bonding over our love for the outdoors.

I was excited to see him again, so I agreed. That evening, I drove 45 minutes into BLM land outside the west entrance of the park to scout for a place camp. I found an amazing campsite that was a short walk away from the view of the three-fifes. finger jack. The site itself was a small clearing right off the road surrounded by tall pines. Justin arrived. We cooked dinner, caught up, watched the sunset, laughed, sang, and dozed off. In the middle of the night, I woke up and Justin was not in the tent. I called his name thinking he must have gone to the bathroom. However, there was no answer. Odd. I grabbed my flashlight, put on my clothes, and left the tent in search of him. He was nowhere to be seen in the immediate

area surrounding the tent or in the woods either. I continued calling his name with no reply. After several minutes of searching the campsite, I decided to walk back to the cars. There, I found him. The passenger door to his car was open. Justin was sitting in the passenger's seat, with his upper body slumped against the passenger door. I thought I saw vomit on the ground. I ran over to him, grabbed his shoulders, sat him up, and started trying to shake him awake. I saw he was breathing, but was unresponsive. So I slapped him a couple times, sorry, which did the trick. When Justin opened his he was trying to speak but was not forming words properly, and the right side of his face wasn't moving. Oh no. Did Justin just have a stroke? What was I supposed to do now? I had no idea where his car keys were.

I could not drag him to my car. He was too heavy. The nearest cell service was at least a 30-minute drive from me. While pondering the fastest way to get him to help, he actually continued to look more and more alert. I asked him what the last thing he remembered was, and he replied, I was eating Taco Bell. I reminded him that we were in the woods and there was no Taco Bell nearby, to which he replied, nah, I was eating a cassidia. He then triumphally whipped out a Taco Bell bag from God knows where and held it in the air. His face was beginning to look a lot more and more symmetrical. He's like, so he wasn't lying. He had Taco Bell. I took an emergency Taco Bell. That's why he went to his car.

He's like, I can't eat this camp food. He's just like, Taco Bell. Smart. But unfortunately, caught in the act. I took a deep breath. Justin was actually a lot more oriented than I initially thought. I looked back at the ground and what I thought was vomit was actually a taco that had been dropped. I asked him what happened after that, to which he replied, I took an ambient and two shots of vodka.

Naturally, Justin must have fallen asleep while sitting up mid-taco and some. slumped against the passenger door. The cold night numbed the side of his face exposed to the elements, which mimicked stroke symptoms. I sat up with him for a little bit before we both went back to bed, and I attempted to sleep. This was my first brush with wilderness medicine, and while I am grateful that my friend did not have a stroke, it felt pretty intense. I continued working in the park service for five years before deciding to go to nursing school. After graduating, I worked in the ER for two years. And to bring the story full circle, remember how I said I am packing while listening to your podcast. I am packing because I recently accepted my first position serving as a nurse in one of

the clinics in Yellowstone National Park. I am so grateful for this opportunity to facilitate safe recreation in some of the most beautiful areas on the planet. As always, enjoy the view. Watch your back and please don't mix sedatives. I'm getting two shots of vodka. It's not a joke. No, and on your second time hanging out. You're like, who is this person? What is happening? Why are you doing that? We went to bed.

Yeah, she's like, I'm partying. I don't know about you, but I've got a date with Taco Bell and an alien in my car. I haven't had Taco Bell in years. Yes. So long. But I could house a cassidia right now, and it's not. even noon. Yeah, I love cassidios. I can't speak to Taco Bell. I am not a fan, candidly. I think I've only eaten Taco Bell once in my life when I was kid. It was the Taco Bell KFC when they were like

combination. I think they are still, are they? I remember I went in and I got like fried chicken and Taco Bell and the same thing. Oh, like, yeah, one of each. I was violently ill after. So that was. Last time I had fried chicken, I was with UNL and I threw. up everywhere. Yeah, you did. In Joshua Tree. I'm like, okay, I get, and I had said fateful last words. I'm like, I haven't had fried food in so long. The next morning I was vacuum my brains out. Okay. Anyways, well, thank you everyone for sharing your stories. I have one more, and so does Cassie. Mine is titled Despacito and Galstones. Despacito. And mine is titled Signed for. And mine is titled, Signed for.

from my mom. And these are two bonus episodes that you can hear on Patreon or Apple subscriptions. So go hang out with us over there. If you are interested in submitting your own trail tale to be featured on the episodes, you can go over to our website, MPADpodcast.com. And there's a submission link there for you. Perfect. Well, thank you all for hanging out. We'll see you next week. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch you back. Bye, everyone. Bye. Thank you for joining us again this week. If you have a trail tale of your own you'd like to share, you can write to us at NPAD Stories at gmail.com

or visit our website at npaddpodcast.com. Bonus trail tales and content are available to Patreon members and Apple subscribers. Follow the show on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X at National Park After Dark. And if you prefer to watch our episodes, you can find us on YouTube at National Park After Dark. And as always, if you enjoy the show, please take a moment to rate, review, and subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts. You're listening to this podcast, so I know you've got a curious mind. Here's a helpful fact you may not know yet. Drivers who switch and save with Progressives save over $900 on average.

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