National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 73

Episode Date: July 3, 2025

Today’s stories include small town legends, embarrassing young canoodling, haunted cheese factories, Hidebehinds and visits from the great beyond. Outsiders Only bonus stories available for Patreon and Apple Subscribers!Listen to Watch Her Cook on Apple and Spotify! Follow us on InstagramFor a full list of our sources, visit npadpodcast.com/episodesFor the latest NPAD updates, group travel details, merch and more, follow us on npadpodcast.com and our socials at:Instagram: @nationalparkafterdarkTikTok: @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!Harvest Hosts: For 20% off your order, head to HarvestHosts.com and use code NPAD.Fay Nutrition: Listeners of National Park After Dark can qualify to see a registered dietitian for as little as $0 by visiting FayNutrition.com/NPAD. 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 spring's 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 Trail Tales edition. I'm Cassie.

And I'm Danielle. And we have six stories for you today. I sure do. Special. Eight if you're an outsider on either Apple subscriptions or Patreon, which we do a lot of extra bonus content and we do bonus monthly stories. And if you're on Patreon, we have live streams, book clubs. You name it. You name it.

Exclusive access to some of our trips. It's a great place to be. Just saying. But okay, this was a good, I will just shout out our audience. You guys have been giving really good stories lately, good variety and ones that are just like really capturing my attention. So you're getting creative. So would you like to go first? I would because the title of mine is really interesting. Yeah, what did I say? I'm like, they're doing really good. Yeah. So the title of my first one is family lore how my family accidentally started a bear attack legend. Go for it. That's family lore right there. Hi guys. I wanted to start by saying how much I appreciate your podcast. Like so many

other listeners, apparently, I'm in the car alone for work a lot. It gets pretty boring and lonely, but listening to you guys makes me feel like I have some other nature-loving friends along for the drive with me. I honestly can't remember what episode it was, but in the end, you asked us to write in stories about family lore. It immediately reminded me of my family's claim to fame in my hometown. It's actually mostly my mom's story. I was there, but I was also just a little kid. Most of this, I've heard secondhand from her, up until recently when it gets brought up in conversation with people who have heard the rumor. To say my mom was always an avid hiker would be an understatement. You guys would actually love her. She went to college for environmental science in order to

fulfill her dream of becoming a forest ranger. Instead, she worked as a wilderness expert at two different boarding schools that required expeditions to graduate. She has hiked the entire Appalachian Trail and as well as many months long camping trips in Everglades National Park, the bush of northern Quebec, and multiple other parks across the country, all while having to control large groups of unruly teens. She is pretty much the coolest person ever. This part was pretty much unrelated, but I never turned down an opportunity to brag about my mom. I told her about your podcast knowing she would be totally into it, so she is now completely caught up. Listening to NPAD is a whole family event for us.

After having kids, she got a new job that didn't require her to travel, but that never stopped her need to be out in the woods. Every day, she would bring my little sister and I, along with our two big fluffy dogs out on a hike. We used to go to this one specific hiking trail all the time due to its proximity to our house. The trailhead was literally our neighbor, so like normal people walk their dogs around the block every day,

ours got taken on this hike. The trail was long and not in the best condition. but led to a beautiful quiet lake. This particular area was also known for Black Bear sightings. Now mind you, we never saw a bear. We literally did this hike every single day for years and never even caught a glimpse of one. But that didn't stop my family from becoming the source of a local bear attack legend that has lived on in the town of Chester, Connecticut, since the 90s. At the time, my little sister was still only a couple of years old, so my mom carried her in a backpack while we hiked. We had gone up into the woods like we normally

did, but this time we pushed on farther down the trail past the lake. It was a special day because my dad had actually agreed to come on our hike with us. I remember just turning the bend to continue the trail from our normal stopping spot when my dad smacked at his arm and announced that he had been stung by bee. Seconds later, I felt the same sting on my leg and before we knew it, a whole swarm of bees had surrounded us. We must have stepped on an underground yellow jacket hive. Without any other thought, my whole family took off running back in the other direction. My dad scooped me up to be able to help us move faster while my little sister bounced along on my mom's back. We all got stung, dogs included multiple times. Once we got home, my mom noticed my little sister's shoe had fallen off somewhere,

but we didn't think much of it. It was a little suede booty with fringe, very boho looking. None of us condone leaving belongings in the woods, but somebody had strung it up on a tree branch that was too high for any of us to reach. Over the years, it had grown green and fuzzy with mold and moss and looked ancient like it had always been there. We would always point it out and laugh about how crazy we must have all looked running down the trail that day. Years later, we moved to a new house and hadn't hiked at that trail so much since we didn't live right next door anymore and whoever maintained it before had since stopped. It was also impossible to find. One day, my mom ran into an old neighbor at the store. She told him how much she missed the house and that she hadn't been

able to get out to the trail much since moving away. The neighbor responded, oh, I won't go hiking out there. Too many bears. A bunch of years ago, bears got a baby on that trail and her shoe is still hanging in a tree. I've seen it myself. A bunch of my buddies won't go there anymore either because it's just so sad and creepy. My mom couldn't hold back her laughter as she told him, that's my daughter's shoe, but she wasn't eaten by bears. We stepped on an underground beehive and lost her shoe as we were running away. the only time that the fabled infant bear victim has been brought up to our family, and every time we're met with scrutiny when we explain the real story. Every few years, somebody will bring up the reservoir trail with the baby shoe hanging from the tree, and it's gruesome backstory, and we get to

have the pleasure of watching their eyes grow wide when we explain that the shoe belongs to my sister, who is very much alive. Just a couple years ago, now over 25 years since the incident and the shoe long gone, a customer brought it up to me while I was bartending at a restaurant in Chester. If you grew up in a small town, you know how some legends just never die, but they certainly do transform. I wish I had a picture of the shoe for you guys. If I ever find one, I promise I'll send it in because it really is an ominous looking, even if you actually know what happened. So instead, please enjoy this picture of my lovely mother sitting on her cross-country van on the way home from the Everglades in 1981. She's the one on the left. Thank you again for

all your work you put into the podcast and for companionship during my daily car rides, Natalie. Love it. That's so funny. And now I've been inspired for a new request. What's that? Small town legends. Okay. Like what's your small town legend or like the legend you grew up hearing about your area growing up? Okay. So can be true, maybe true, maybe not true. Probably not true, but true in the sense that you legitimately heard it growing up and it was like part of the fabric of your town or community or area. Whether or not it's factual or not, I don't care about that. Okay. Do you have a small town legend? I don't know. I'm trying to think if I, there must be something. This isn't a legend in my town, but maybe is a legend for people visiting my town.

And I just think of this because I remember when I brought my college friends to my hometown for the first time and they were just like terrified. So in my town every year, I forget what month it takes place. But there's a in all of our downtown, they do whimsical people where basically people stuff and create fake people and strew them around town and they have different outfits on and some of them have faces. Some of them don't. And it's been, I don't know where the tradition. Carecrows? Kind of. But they call them whimsical people because they're supposed to be an art installation kind of thing.

I actually don't know the story behind why this started. But for an outsider coming into town, I apparently, I've known it my whole life, so I've never thought anything about it. But my friends, when I was bringing them in town for the first time, they're like, where do you live? What is this? Like, it was very culty for them. And I remember one, when you first went into town, someone had created their art installation or whatever it was. They actually did death.

And so when you came into town, there was like just this whimsical, whimsical person, just in a black trench coat with one of the staffs with the, what are those called? Yeah, the sife. And they were like, where are you taking us right now? And then they have them at the stoplight on the course. corner of all the in front of the library you know they're just all over town and i would imagine that some people who don't know the area and have driven there like accidentally just to get to the gas station or coffee or something off the highway like what creepy town are we yeah yeah it kind of reminds

me of like the town in um from where it's just like where are we have you seen it i think i told you actually not to watch it i watched a couple of episodes it's the one where they get stuck in the town and then they drive a car, but they're back in. Yeah. Yeah. I could give vibes from from for sure. Like scary. For me, I don't think it's scary at all, but for people, but I've seen them literally since I was five years old. Yeah. So it's kind of you're desensitized, I think. Yeah. Yeah. I don't know. I'll have to circle back with something like that for my town, because I'm sure, I'm sure it exists. I just, was I saying this on the podcast or in a conversation? I don't remember, but that's the point. I legit can't remember anything. Like, I feel like I have

short-term memory loss. Weren't we just talking about this? Yeah. I forget in what context, but it's funny because I talk to my mom's partner a lot and he has pretty good memory, but he will always be like, God, I'm getting old. I can't remember it. I'm like, you are way more with it than me and you're in your 70s. So, yeah. It's not looking good for me. No. If this is an indication of what to come, I'm not even going to remember that you probably. That's really sad. I hope you remember me. I know. Me too. It is concerning, though. It is concerning, though. I know. Like, I'll probably remember your face, but just not what we talk about. That's fair. But yeah, that's a different concern. This episode is brought to you by Prime.

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Hi, Danielle and Cassie. my name is Amy and I'm a long time loyal fan of the pod. I drive a lot for work so you two are basically my road trip soulmates. I've laughed with you, cried with you, grieved with you and said, oh wow, that's so interesting, more times than I can count. You don't know me, but I feel like you're my honorary besties. Is that weird? Probably, but still true. I seriously hope I get the chance to meet you one day, maybe on one of your trips or at a live show. You're both such hilarious, thoughtful, lovely humans. Also, shameless plug, please come to Salt Lake for a show, or honestly, in Utah. We need your energy out here. I can also show, yeah, Utah. Our energy should be in a lot.

We love Utah. We do. Sign us out. Or honestly, oh no, I just said that. Again, I'm forgetting. Look it's in happening in the real time. I can also show you around. Okay, anyway, onto my story. This one's a little spooky tale set in a freakiest fric, abandoned factory. But first, we need some backstory to set the scene. It's a bit of a long ride, but I promise it's worth it. I've changed the names of everyone involved, so feel free to share them. I live in Salt Lake, but I grew up in northern Utah in a small agricultural town called Logan. It's a stunning valley best known for its endless outdoor recreation, a local university, and a truly impressive cow-to-human ratio, matched only by its abundance of dairy and cheese factories.

This story takes place near my middle school, which, for some reason, was almost 30 minutes from where I lived, but less than 10 from the Idaho border. Does that make sense? Not really, but then again, not much in Logan does. Just north of the school across the border is where Napoleon Dynamite was filmed. And having lived nearby, I can confirm that movie is actually a docudrama, no matter what the locals say. The school itself was surrounded by alfalfa fields and cozied up next to a meatpacking plant. The valley runs on cows and the daily aroma drifting from the plant really made you appreciate the fresh in fresh air. Just north of the school were a few abandoned factories adding to the rural charm, or at least

the post-apocalyptic vibe. Anyway, now that you've got a sense of the setting, let's get into it. Honestly, I appreciate all the descriptors here, but you could have just said where Napoleon Dynamite was filmed and I got it. I haven't seen that movie in so long, but something came up in my newsfeed that they're making a second one. No. And that the main actor was only paid like a dollar or something for that entire role.

That actually doesn't super surprise me, but I'm disappointed they're making a second one. I don't like the whole remakes of thing. Like the mean girls thing, the second mean girls. Oh yeah. Or remake. I don't think I saw it. I didn't either because it's a musical and I refuse. Okay.

When I was 14, my girl gang and I were the perfect mix of innocent, loyal, and absolutely feral. We had no common sense, but were wildly happy and probably the envy of everyone at school. We had been given the name the Beasties, eight of us total, and somehow that name stuck. Even now, most of us are in our 30s, and some of the Beasties have tiny Beasties of their own. That's cute. We were straight-A students in the art of doing dumb shit without ever getting caught, hurt or, importantly, dead. Drugs, alcohol, and boys weren't really on the radar. Okay, maybe boys were a little.

But mostly we were out climbing literal mountains without telling anyone or having sleepovers on trampolines when we knew there was a mountain lion out and about, you know, normal beasty things. We were obsessed with all things spooky. So naturally, when we heard the old abandoned cheese factory near our school was haunted, we just had to investigate. It was a Friday. We told our parents we were going to the school lacrosse game, which was only a partial lie. I got home, geared up for my first ghost hunt, and stared at the flashlight on my dresser.

It was broad daylight, so I left it. That decision may have saved our lives. Four of us met at the bus stop, Katie, Andrea, Riley, and me. Andrea and Riley had airsoft guns stuffed in their sweatpants for safety, because nothing says tactical readiness like petite blondes with plastic pistols. Love it. This is just like, I've never experienced anything like this, but I feel nostalgic. Like I haven't done this exact thing, but I feel like I was there.

We rode the bus nearly to Idaho, then started the walk towards the factory, as we approached the looming smoke stack, I got a sick feeling in my gut. The factory had been bricked up tight, an obvious warning sign, but we kept circling it looking for a way in. I tried to convince them that we could take pictures around the outside with my trusty neon blue cool pics camera. It was 2009 after all, but they were dead set on going in. Eventually, we found a section where bricks were crumbling just enough to crawl through. Katie and Andrea went in first. Riley and I hesitated, both of us frozen hearts racing. We shouted for them to come back, but the sound of rushing water from a natural spring inside drowned us out. So we did the only thing we could do. We followed them

inside. The room was pitch black. I couldn't see my own hand in front of my face. We felt our way along the wall until it opened into a massive, shadowy factory floor. I caught one quick glimpse, a cavern of space, old equipment barely lit by the shafts of daylight, when Riley suddenly turned to me and whispered, get out, get out, get out. We didn't hesitate. Just as we had gotten back outside, Andrea and Katie reappeared. Andrea looked freaked. Riley and Andrea both said that they had seen something. A face, maybe graffiti or maybe something else, but neither of them wanted to talk about it. I hadn't seen it, and honestly, I didn't want to. Katie, ever the chaotic optimist, wanted to go back in. She and Andrea had seen stairs, but they were too dangerous to climb without a flashlight. And thank God,

I didn't bring mine. The universe said no, and we finally convinced Katie to stop calling her neighborhood contacts for flashlights. As we headed back, we stopped at a loading dock with a garage door cracked open just enough to peek inside. We pressed our faces to the opening, spotting paint cans and dusty junk, and then we heard it. Furniture scraping across the floor, labored breathing, and something moving in the shadows coming closer. My body chose flight, and I sprinted like my life depended on it. Katie was close behind, Andrea dragged a frozen Riley away, and the four of us bolted for the road. Breathless, shaken, we regrouped. And Katie, dear sweet Katie, had the audacity to say,

we should go back in and figure out what that was. But before she could finish that thought, we heard a single scream, loud, inhuman, blood curdling. It echoed from the depths of the factory, and that was the moment even Katie stopped arguing. We walked straight to the lacrosse game, where we pretended to be normal teens and took a deeply edited photo of our shoes, Andrea used Picnic, May it Rest in Peace. What is that? That's nostalgic. Oh, you never used Picnic?

No, I've never even heard of it. It was a website. This was before filters. Like, you know, like filters on Snapchat and stuff existed. This was, you went on Picnic, you could add whatever, like, edits you wanted, like, kind of filtery things on it. But also, they had all these. stickers that you could put all over your pictures so you could do like piece sign. I have,

I have some. I have some picnic edited. I do. I definitely do. It's funny because the, the picture of the shoes, it's like that's a, that's an experience every early 2000s, uh, girly has had. Yes. For some reason. I don't know why. It was a thing. It's coming back. That photo is the only evidence that day even happened. I deleted the rest. in a post-trauma panic, which I now deeply regret, and I'll attach the photo. We called my 17-year-old sister for a ride like the reckless idiots we were. She called us idiots, too, deserved. We never told our parents the full story, but I will say this.

If curiosity killed the cat, the beasties got really, really lucky. The next day, a friend of ours who lived near the factory found out what we'd done and immediately freaked. He told us later that same night, the place was swarming with cops. I never found out if that was true or what exactly happened. Again, there's a type, legend. That's a small town legend. Nothing ever happened to me after that day, but a few of the other girls had some pretty

unsettling paranormal experiences. One had full on night terrors for months, as Cassie would say, you got haunted. I would say that. You infamously have said that. Yeah. They only ever told me their haunting experiences once, and I've never asked again. Some stories sit better in silence. While I have zero desire to ever go back to that cursed cheese factory,

I do wish I could go back to being a feral beastie for just a day or two, just to feel that reckless joy again. I'm still in touch with most of them, and I truly treasure their friendship, and the borderline illegal amount of memories we made together. And finally, thank you, not just for being wildly entertaining, but for building this amazing community, educating on topics that matter,

and for all your earnest work in protecting our work. wild places. You two are doing important, meaningful stuff, and I'll keep shouting out NPAD to literally anyone who'll listen. And remember, enjoy the view, but don't go into abandoned structures. You never know what could follow you home. With love and appreciation, Amy. Love that story. I think it just kind of harkens back to what I've always said about exploring abandoned places, and I'm really afraid of actual living humans. Yeah. And to choose to go to this abandoned building at night? It's the day. It was the day. I thought they needed flashlights. Yeah, when they were, because inside was all boarded up and dark, but it was still daylight.

The daylight was like streaming in. And then they went to the little cross game later. Oh, okay. Yeah. But still. Less reckless, but still. I'm not an abandoned. Same thing. Just worry. I mean, we were at an abandoned house recently up in Acadia and it's my family. Oh my God, yeah. And we wouldn't go inside. You're like, we don't know if there's someone in there. I stayed in the car. I was like, I'll call 911 when you disappear.

Yeah. I looked in the windows and stuff, but I didn't go inside because I was like, I don't think anyone's here. But if there is, I don't want to disturb them. I do understand the split of like really wanting to explore something, but also being afraid and fearing for your safety. Yeah. Like I get that. Like I just always fall back on I'm scared. I think I would be less scared with a large group of people. But if it was like me and you, be like no. Especially when we're, I don't know, 17 or whenever. When I was 17, I might have done it. I was ballsyer when I was 17. Yeah. All around. Braver, stronger. Yep. Same. It's your turn. It is my turn. Okay. Would you like to hear a story? I would. Okay. Mine is titled, Embarrassing. young canoodling in Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. Oh, God. I think we've all have some embarrassing young canoodling. If I could, like, go back and see myself in, like, certain moments in time when I was a teenager, I know. The embarrassment. He's so embarrassed.

I feel like, girl, what? What was wrong with you? Stop. Please. Please don't. I'm begging you. You're embarrassing us. The thought of anyone hearing this and recognizing it as being me makes me cringe. But I'm working on not giving a fuck. So here we go. We're right there with you. This energy is, I'm loving. We're already here with you, yeah?

My sophomore year of high school, 2013-ish, I did a summer trip through a college in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to backpack the porkies with a group of students by age. This was my first experience backpacking. I was the only girl student of five along with our guide and nine. nice-ish older woman and Armedic. Nice-ish. I had the time of my life and fell in love with being in the outdoors on a level I hadn't before. I didn't feel weird being the only girl because I considered myself a bit of a tomboy and while plagued with crippling anxiety, just general ignorant young

person anxiety, I also had and still have the brute stubbornness to prove myself as an equal to any boy. We all bonded and got to know each other well. I learned the boys I was with were all just big nerds who loved the outdoors. We would stay up late around the campfire and chat, learning about one another. This is where it gets juicy. One of our last nights, it came up that one of the boys had never kissed anyone before.

Looking back, I'd be surprised if the others had, shade intended. Okay. Shots fired. Shots fired. One of the other boys said, you're going to give him his first kiss? To which I gave a sassy, no.

Later that night, no first kiss boy and I were off. brushing our teeth together. We were the only two who actually did brush our teeth that entire trip, which is slightly appalling. Dental hygiene is very important of him. So true. No first kiss boy. I love how that's their name in this story. No first kiss boy. Well, that's how they probably remember him forever. Like she, you know how everyone gets nicknames when you first either start seeing them or they just like that this person probably doesn't have a name to her. It's just just no first kiss. No first.

First kiss boy. Yeah. No first kiss boy was really sweet and I had grown really fond of him. I wanted to give him his first kiss, but not in front of those other weenies. After a thorough mouth cleansing and the dark moonlit woods away from everyone else, I said to him, do you still want your first kiss? So sultry, I know. I'm making the first move. We ended up making out, but our fatal mistake was neither of us were experienced.

Experienced and kissing. We both went to bed and I felt like such a little batty being this dude's secret sexy wilderness woman that made out with him in the woods. The next morning I woke up in my tent and looked at myself in the small mirror that I had brought. To my absolute horror, I had hickies. Not just a few small ones. It looked like I had been motherfucking strangled by someone's lips. Like seriously, my neck was covered in large, deep purple and red spots. I panicked. I had no makeup with me, obviously, and decided my only option was to put on my hoodie,

hood up, and wear my nasty, tangled, disheveled hair down around my neck. We hiked the few hours back to our ride that morning. I was so sweaty in that hoodie, but I would have rather died than taken it off. Back at the college, I was able to steal some of my temporary roomies makeup to cover my neck in time for my dad to pick me up. I cringe less now thinking about this than I used to, but I still feel secondhand embarrassment for my younger self. Do I regret it? No. I am a sexy wilderness woman and so are you too. Keep it up. Your podcast is such a gift and you are so appreciated and loved. Thank you for what you do. Live, fuck it, share my name. This is the energy I need from everyone. That is the type of embarrassing story I want to hear. Like people is great. It's like great. But this

It's like, it's just so relatable because I feel like, oh my God, Hickeys. I, okay, I never understood that, like, I was very quick to shut down Hickies before they happened. Because it's like, why the fuck are you just sucking on my neck? Like, just latching on like a leech and just sucking. Like, I do something else with your mouth on other parts of my body. You know what I mean? Especially when you're like 17 and it's like, I. I don't know. I have the ick. I have the fucking egg. I was, I'm with Liv. I was embarrassing and I definitely, definitely had some hickies in my day.

Did you give hickies though? Were you a hickie giver? Yes. Yes. Cassie. Yes. Embarrassing. I know that like some people love, like opposite end of the spectrum here instead of like hiding them and being, I know this was like a different set of circumstances, but I remember certain girls. in high school, like walking around and like kind of showing them off. Yeah. Like I have, I got hickies last night. Like that, I couldn't be less jealous of that. I remember, and this was in college, but I remember this guy who was one of my friends, he came like running to my room and he had gotten a hicky the night before.

He had hooked up with someone in college and his parents were surprising him and they texted or called him like minutes before that and he had no idea. and he had this awful hicky, and he's like, please help me. So I remember I, like, got out all my makeup and I'm like trying to, you know, if you put green over red and then you put like makeup. Color theory. Like color, yeah. And so I did a pretty decent job, but you could still see it. So I never, I don't remember if they noticed it or not, but I wouldn't be surprised because it was big.

And remember when people would try and like kind of explain it a way of like, oh, it's my straightener burned me. Oh my God. Girl, I know the difference between a burn and a bruise. Yeah. Oh, my God. This actually gives me, this is not my hicky story, but it is a friend of mine's hicky story. And we're good now. We're friends and everything. But in high school, she, I dated someone. We broke up. And then she dated that same person and she didn't want me to know for a while. And I dated this person for like a month. They dated for like seven years, like water under the bridge. doesn't matter. But when she first started dating him, she didn't want me to know and she showed up at school the next day with hickies all over her neck. And she had them. She didn't hide them at all. But I remember she told everyone in my class to tell me that it was this girl that was her friend who did it. Okay. But everyone told me that she was telling everyone to tell me that and who actually did it. And I'll always remember, like, going to school that day and, like, do you think I'm stupid? Yeah.

It's like, it's clear. Like, I already knew you guys were dating. Yeah. But I'll always remember it. It's just like another cringy moment. And it's just funny. It's really funny to look back on now, like this decisions we made when we were 16, 17 years old. Yeah.

I definitely have, once again, give me time. I will circle back. I definitely have some cringy. What did you call us wilderness? Mountain something. Sexy Wilderness Woman. Yeah. That's a nickname that I feel like I could wear as a badge of honor because I've definitely

done some, I don't know. Sometimes the woods were your only place to be. You know? It's true. It is true. For canoodling. And I lived to canoodle. If there's anything about me, I will have a good canotel.

Teenagers have. Teenagers, so much PDA with teenagers is crazy. Just like the rush you got, like, just thinking of like that time in life and just being so flirty and like everything was new and exciting and carefree, no consequences. Get your heart racing. Okay. Anyway, let's move on. My next story is titled Shadow People, a shared death experience and smiles from the

great beyond. Hello ladies. My name is Christina. I'm a 29-year-old female from Arizona. I've spent the last year listening to you lovely ladies tell me stories while I do dishes, cook, deep clean the house, etc. Thank you for filling my mundane house chores with adventure. I listened to your episodes in reverse, so only recently came across your trail tale episodes that was all about signs from deceased loved ones. I really resonate with these stories, as well as the episodes touching on near-death experiences, as I have a story of my own.

It all ends in several national parks, I swear. I wanted to finally write in and thought the two-year anniversary of my dad's death would be a great time to do so. So here it goes. My dad was a Romanian immigrant who grew up with very little and wanted to give his family everything. My sister and I grew up very happy and loved. He could never say no to his two little girls. He set the bar very high for how we should be treated and how we should treat others. He was someone who couldn't turn away anyone in need even when he had nothing to give at all.

He was always telling long, drawn-out jokes or botching a sketch he saw from a comedian. He loved to laugh and to make people laugh. So much so that we had engraved someone who loved to make people laugh, along with his name on his headstone. It's short, but after much debate amongst my family, it was the best phrase that embodied him that could meet the 70 character Max's word count. We lost him in May of 2023 to lung cancer. My dad, knowing he would pass soon, always said, I don't want you to cry when I die. Me, being the smart ass he raised, always replied,

What, do you want me to smile? He'd reply, yes, I want you to remember me and to smile and be happy for all the memories we had together. This will be important later. The day he died, we were all together for Memorial Day having lunch. My dad was not much there mentally in his final weeks. He was often confused or unresponsive when we would try to speak to him. He had mentioned a few weeks prior that when he's alone, he sees shadow figures sitting

beside him in his peripheral vision, but when he turns his head to look, they were gone. Dad, you telling us that you're seeing a ghost? I exclaimed with concern in my voice. Once he explained that the shadow figure's presence brings him comfort. I remembered all the stories from my paranormal podcasts about hospice patients reportedly seeing dead relatives and shadow figures when their time is almost up. Anyway, this day had become a lot for me to handle emotionally, so I decided to leave early for some well-earned disassociation time, oblivious to what was going to take place later that evening. I said goodbye to my dad, but he was in some sort of trance he couldn't break out of.

It took the terrifying, raised voice of my Eastern European mother to bring him back to Earth. George, Christina is trying to talk to you, she yelled from the kitchen. He shook awake and said, goodbye, I love you. I left in my car, driving home, sobbing hysterically, and screaming in the only place I let it out. This became my routine, driving to and from my parents' house for months. But then, something very strange started to happen. Memories of me and my dad from throughout my entire life began flooding in. Memories of me and him when I was a baby, toddler, child, teen, and young adult. Memories that I cannot recall now due to poor memory recall from years of trauma, some from so early

on in my life that there was no way I could have remembered them. I was able to recall cherished moments from almost a decade ago before his diagnosis, his strong voice and healthy appearance, memories that had been wiped from my mind and replaced by more recent images of his declining health. It is almost as if they were his memories of him and I. At the time, I didn't think much of this for some reason. I just went back home and laid in bed

until I received the dreaded text from my sister. It's happening. You need to come back. I raced back in my car, again sobbing hysterically, and again, memories began. I began flashing in my mind like a movie montage. Too hysterical to think deeply about what I was experiencing, I walked into my parents' home to see my dad for the very last time, and I stopped crying.

I remember Danielle explaining what it was like when she was losing Ian. Something primal takes over in traumatic situations like this, and you just sort of feel calm. Your body goes into survival mode as if it knows what is happening, as it has happened to all your ancestors before you, and it keeps you extremely present and calm. He passed that night peacefully in his sleep around everyone who he loved and who loved him deeply. I have historically had an awful memory, so I have no idea how the flashbacks could have just entered my mind like this at the exact same time my dad was passing away.

Was this something spiritual, paranormal, primal, science-y? Did my body know he was dying and my brain tapped into my deep, forgotten memories? I am a woman of science, but I am also spiritual. I do believe the two could go hand in hand, and it wasn't until I read the book after by Bruce Grayson that I learned about shared death experiences. I have that on my shelf behind me, that book. I believe I had a shared death experience with my dad. I believe he was receiving his life review, aka the life flashing before your eyes, and he was sharing the parts with him and I. I am not sure what to do with this, as I have not found any other stories online about this exact kind of shared death experience.

Fast forward two weeks, my mental health is at an all-time low, and a girl I had a fling with eight years prior in college slides into my DMs. I reluctantly, because of my deteriorating mental health, agree to reconnect with her. I'd soon learned to be grateful for this decision, because we quickly became close friends, moved in together, and fell in love. Yes, in that order. At this point in my life, all I wanted was to meet my soulmate, as I've spent most of my 20s grieving my dad as I watched his health decline, and she essentially fell from the sky. I truly believe my dad had something to do with sending her my way. Fast forward one year, my partner and I decide to go on a National Park road trip. See, I told you there's a tie-in.

The plan was to hit Rocky Mountain, Wind Cave, Badlands, my girlfriend's family reunion in Wisconsin, then to Voyagers, Theodore Roosevelt, Yellowstone, and the Grand Teton's. I brought some of my dad's ashes with us to sprinkle in some of the most beautiful places that we would see throughout our trip. It wasn't until we were on the outskirts of voyagers that I noticed something strange. I was riding in the passenger seat and alongside a country road with nothing but forced beside it, I noticed a smiley face painted on a sign. It didn't seem like graffiti or an advertisement of any kind, just a perfectly drawn yellow smiley face, very out of place. That's odd, I thought. Wonder what that was for. A few hours later, on our hike in the park,

we hit a point with a wooden bench placed directly in front of a beautiful view of a lake. I thought this would be a nice spot to sprinkle some of my dad's ashes, and after doing so, I began to cry. My girlfriend then pointed to my left on the bench. Look, a smiley face. And right there was a smiley face carved into the wood. I thought of the random smiley face I saw just hours earlier and the placement of this one seemed like synchronicity. I felt it in my bones that this must be my dad telling me to quit crying already. From that, point, I began seeing smiley faces everywhere. Waiting outside of the cowboy cafe restroom in Madora, North Dakota, after hitting Wing Cave, I looked down at my feet and saw a perfect

smiley face and white painting smiling right up at me. Beside hydrothermal steam and bison hoof prints while walking the Grand Prismatic Hot Springs Trail at Yellowstone, we saw a smiley face drawn into the earth below the wooden walking path. While this was clearly done by either a child or a childlike adult with little regard for leave no trace. To me, it was another reminder from my dad to keep on smiling. The final smiley face I noticed on this trip was the strangest of all, because it was not human made. My partner was driving and I was scrolling through our photos taken of Yellowstone when I came across one that made me stop and squint my eyes to see if I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing. The photo was of a tree with a river and a hill in the background, with a big,

round cloud in the sky with two small holes in the center and one large one below. Yep, you guessed it. It looked just like a smiley face. I did not notice this while taking the photo, but there it was clear as day. I'll be sure to send in the photos of my smiley faces that I documented on this trip. To this day, I see them in the most unlikely places and I refuse to believe that it is any less than my dad reminding me to stop crying and appreciate every moment that he and I shared, and of course, to smile. the other day while walking your dog, my girlfriend and I were drawn to a mesquite tree that had an odd-looking branch. While walking over to it, I looked at the tree's base and saw stone with the word smile painted on it. So I did just that. I smiled and snapped a photo, which I'll include with my

others. This happens constantly. It surely is no coincidence. Either it's my dad or some misogynistic ghost telling me I need to smile more, so I'm going to go with the former. Thank you for bearing with me and reading this story in its entirety. I love you ladies and I hope to come on one of your group adventures someday when the stars align. Until then, enjoy the view and don't forget to smile while doing so. Thanks, Christina. I loved that story. That was really beautiful. I know. And it's, I had to think back of when the last time I saw like a smiley face or something like that and I can't, I can't, I don't see them like anywhere. Yeah. You know what I mean? And I just, I really enjoy that for her.

Like that's something that comes up in her life so often that she can resonate with. Yeah. And yeah, that's a good sneaky book recommendation in there after a people ask. Have you read it or you just have it? Yeah. Yeah, I read it. I read it about maybe three months after Ian passed. I read it when I was on like my reading spree of every single book that has to do with death and afterlife.

and, you know, what comes next and things like that. But, yeah, that's a really good one. And it's like very, like she said, I'm a woman of science. It's very sciencey. It's not as like, I don't know, woo-woo, I guess. Yeah. So it's a good one for people who are like, I need this from like a science perspective. I need proof that this is real.

Yeah, not just like, I feel this. It's like, okay. Yeah. But why? Yeah. So anyway, that's a good one. But anyway, all right, great. Well, my next story is a longer one, and it is titled Behind the Trees.

Hi, Danielle and Cassie. My name is Ivan and my wife and I are big fans of the show. I'm a long-haul truck driver, and we're privileged in that I get to bring my wife with me. Being that our whole life is one long road trip, we listen to a lot of podcasts, and NPAD is constantly in our rotation. This tale is one we love to share around camp and is one of the scariest encounters we've had outdoors. My wife and I are pretty flighty, especially during the holidays, so when we love to share around camp, on a long weekend a few years ago, we decided to go on a winter camping trip. Texas winters aren't especially cold, but for two East Texans, the idea of sleeping outside and 30-degree weather sounded like a real Arctic expedition that we were excited to embark on.

We'd packed all the blankets we owned, along with our massive six-person tent and headed west to the Texas Hill country. We'd visit South Yano River State Park the previous year as a stop on a bigger camping trip we took for Christmas and knew we wanted to come back at some point. It's an IDA dark sky park with great stargazing opportunities that helped justify our recent telescope purchase. The five-hour drive-in was as beautiful as it was long. Just before getting to the park, we pulled into a scenic overlook that gave us a great view of most of the park and drove towards the park entrance. We were confused when we arrived at a closed gate, and we couldn't find any information online we had lost signal about 20 miles ago.

We wondered if we should turn back around into town, but eventually another camper who was waiting by the gate told us why the park was closed. We didn't realize when we'd made the reservations, but the park closed on certain days for turkey hunting season, and we were there on the last half day of the hunt. An hour or so later, a ranger drove up from the inside the park to open the gate for us. After checking in with the main office, we drove around to get a quick look of the entire park. It was the off season, so we didn't expect many people, but by the looks of it, it was of a whole house. There were RVs parked in several sites, tents propped up, chairs set up around dead campfires, and bikes laid around a few of the sites. But oddly enough, we didn't see or hear many people out.

A few sites over, a couple hunters sat outside of their RV, and an older couple walked up the road with their pup tugging them along. We waved hello to a passing range, and he waved back, but was soon out of sight. Unlike many of our other park experiences, the place felt deserted. Not even the camper who helped us was outside the gate earlier was around. We assumed that they were in a different part of the park, but it still felt odd that we didn't see them after checking in. In the moment, it didn't seem noteworthy. And honestly, as introverts, we figured we just got lucky with a quiet and slow day.

It wasn't a big deal, however, just an observation. We were more excited to set up camp and explore the park anyways. Looking back now, the emptiness and silence should have been our first clue. Before I go further, I think it's important to note that, Neither of us scare easily. We're both pretty level-headed and tend to think rationally and logically to work out any fears that we have. Even though we both listen to a lot of true crime and scary stories, we tend to keep those thoughts out of our heads when we're out in nature. We enjoy the outdoors too much to let those scary hypothetical serial killers and cryptids in the woods

ruin our trips. We know that they're just stories. It's funny you say we know they're just story, but serial killers are real. I was just going to say something. I'm like, but wait, that's real. It's like, that really happens. There's some stories. Ivan? Ivan? Pay attention. I know.

There's like allegedly maybe a serial killer in New England right now. I know. Which is scary. I haven't looked too much into, because I'll see conflicting things of like another body of another woman here, here and here. And then it's like no evidence of them linked together. But I feel like in hindsight with so many serial killer cases, that's how it starts. That's always how it starts. Yeah.

And they're all popping up in the woods. There's like a certain age demographic that's being affected. Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, they're real. Serial killers are not just stories. We rushed to set up camp since we lost a lot of daylight waiting for the gates to open and we were itching to set off and explore. Since we only had a couple hours before sunset, we figured we would start with the closest trail.

Behind our campsite, just beyond the tree line, was a trailhead that broke off into a few different trails. Walking to the trailhead, our dog Ella was excited as usual, zigzagging between my wife and I, sniffing every leaf on the ground that caught her attention. At the gate of the trailhead, we read a sign stating that the trail closed at 3 p.m. That seemed odd since most of our parks closed at sunset, which at the time of year would have been around 6 p.m. Three seemed a bit too early, but we later learned it was to protect the turkeys roosting in the area. We were bummed, it'd be a short time. We decided we'd be quick and try to make the best of it.

We set off happy as could be, excited to finally get away from the city and step into nature for a while. The trail we took was a pretty short loop that went out to the river and followed it for a while before cutting back to the gate, probably less than three miles altogether. We chatted most of the way while Ella tugged at her leash bouncing from either side of the trail. When we reached the bank of the river, my wife noticed a few wild pigs, a mother and her piglets. On our side of the river, we stood about six feet higher than them on a cliff, so they did. didn't notice us right away. We watched them root around for food for a while before they disappeared into the bushes on the other side of the river and we moved on. We kept moving down the trail,

stopping to look at trees, plants, and armadillos that scurried across the trail, taking pictures along the way. I had just pulled out my binoculars to see if I could spot any wildlife when my wife stopped in her tracks. She stood stiff for a moment before saying, babe, keep walking. We need to go. Curfew is almost up in a monotone voice. She stood. She stood. stood in a place not looking at me when she spoke. She stared straight ahead at a clearing with tall grass and a couple skinny trees. I couldn't tell what she was looking at, but something in her voice just told me to do it, not to press her and pick up the pace. My wife has really good situational awareness and is pretty risk averse, so she does that type of thing a lot. It could

be a stranger giving her a bad vibe or a sudden sense of urgency to just get out of there, like something is about to happen. She usually picks up on those sort of things and even though she wasn't always right. She was right often enough for me to know it was best to just trust her. We kept on quieter now, stepping a bit faster while my wife's eyes were set on the same clearing. I thought maybe it was an animal or maybe just another hiker, but eventually I noticed Ella started to act weird too. Nothing like the interactions we had had with the wild hog and the armadillos. She tends to be a pretty happy and restless hiker, jumping on people and excitedly tugging us along the whole time. But for some reason, she was also looking around into the trees.

and walking in weird patterns, sometimes even stopping long enough for me to have to prod her along to keep walking. Now I'm fully out of my ignorance and aware something feels wrong. My wife is still looking at the same spot, which was behind us around a curve, not entirely visible anymore. A little worried now, I asked her, what's wrong? Why is the dog being so weird? While keeping her eyes in the same direction of the clearing, she said, I don't know. I thought I saw something behind those trees, but I don't know what it was. I asked if Ella might have seen it too, and that's why she's just as skittish, but we couldn't be sure. She didn't describe to me what it was she thought she saw, but I could tell she wasn't scared at that point yet, so I cracked a cheesy joke to ease the tension. Maybe it was just a giant

turkey. She didn't laugh. The wind died down in an unsettling silence set in. Right then, we heard what sounded like a branch snap. We turned back towards the clearing. In my peripheral, I thought I saw something quickly ducked behind a tree. I wasn't sure what it was. I'd only caught a glimpse of it. It was vaguely human with a head, neck, and shoulders, but the whole figure was dark and blurred almost the color of the trees. It didn't look like any animal I knew of in that part of the state. Maybe I had imagined it. I decided not to mention it to my wife, so she wouldn't worry any more than she already was. I feel like that's something you should mention. I want to know. Yeah, if you think you see something, I want to know what it is. Or that you saw something and I should be

on high alert. Yeah, it's like I, you aren't alone. There's somebody else with you that should probably be aware of anything odd. But also, I guess if like your wife is already really on edge, maybe it doesn't even need to be said, it's like she's already worried. Let's just like keep it moving and get out of here. It's not, not necessary to freak her out even more and just like get out of here. I don't know. I just, I like to know things. I do too. I thought I caught glimpses of it a few more times behind different trees. Most of them were to our side and when I'd look behind us on the trail, but at least once I saw it behind a tree ahead of us on the trail. I wondered if it was just one or several of those, whatever it was. I wondered if there could have been a group all around us,

or a single figure faster than I could keep track of. The answer wouldn't change the fact that I knew we needed to get out of there. The thing that baffled me the most was that the trees in the area aren't very wide. Most of the trees look like pencils with leaves in that area. They weren't exactly wide enough for many things to duck and fully hide behind. How the hell were they able to completely hide behind the trees? As we made our way down the trail, I kept all these thoughts to myself. There had to be a logical explanation, or I was seeing things. Either way, the last thing I wanted was to have all three of us running out of the park like crazy people over something that might just have been some dirt in my eyes. We were nearing the end when it showed itself one last time,

stood peeking behind a tree as clear as day. I turned to my wife, our eyes. locked. Neither of us had to say it anymore. We both saw it and now there was no denying it. We both knew something was out there with us. Just act normal. My wife said, keep walking. Completely silent with fear, now the air even felt heavy and dead. No movement at all. It felt like the whole area was holding its breath. I silently prayed that this was all a horrible misunderstanding, that it was only a pig or coyote we had contended with. As dangerous an encounter with one would be, it was a lot better than what we were now imagining might be out there. But we knew whatever that thing was, it wasn't human or animal.

The gate was within sight now. We quietly rushed towards it and right as we came up to it, a couple in a side by side came riding up to the gate from the other side. We realized later that they were park hosts. They looked at us confused and asked, what are you guys doing out here? We thought no one was here. We tried to hold it together and replied something about trying to enjoy the trail

before it closed and we awkwardly hurried past them, embarrassed at how we almost jump when they came into sight. Had we really just witnessed that? Almost as soon as we stepped across the gate, we could feel the pressure in the air change. The cold air felt so much lighter and we could hear animal noises again. Birds chirping, crickets ringing in the breeze began to blow past us as if it had never left. I looked down at my watch and noticed it was still about 10 minutes before the trail was supposed to close. When we were back at our campsite, I told my wife everything. She then took a deep breath, and explained what she had seen. When I went to pull out my binoculars, something caught her eye.

At first, she thought it was a deer, just above the tall grass standing behind a tree, but it didn't look right. She followed the outline of the thing to see the rest of its body, but that's when she saw hands long and skinny, just a shade darker than the tree trunk, and its fingers wrapped around. She looked back at its head much clearer now. It was human-like, but no features to it. In that moment, all she could think of were her grandmother's words,

that I'd love to get into, but we'd be here all day, just heck normal, respect it, and keep going about your way. So in that moment, she did just that. She kept her eyes on it, as if to show no fear, but rather respect and kept moving. She wasn't sure what it was, but better safe than sorry. She said she didn't know if I had seen it following us until that last moment we locked eyes, and that was when the fear caught up to her. She also pointed out that when we were leaving, it almost felt like the hosts were concerned to see us on the trail and were trying to get us out of there quickly, as if they knew. That track, since they looked like they were ready to close the gates earlier

than what the signs stated they were supposed to do. The rest of our trip went smoothly. In the evening, campfires roared, families laughed, the stars shone beautifully, and we didn't feel what we felt back on that trail. After crossing that gate back to the campside, it felt almost like a different world. It felt safer and far away from whatever was high. hiding behind the trees. We still camp, still hike, and have never felt or seen anything like we did that day. After the trip, we came home and shared the story with a few family members

and some friends, but we mostly forgot about the whole ordeal until 2024 when this video showed up on my wife's For You page. It was terrifyingly similar to our experience. It describes something they called a hide behind, and I immediately recognized it. The dark human-shaped figure that kept ducking behind the trees I'd seen was exactly what they were describing. We didn't get too deep into what we saw, so when she showed me that video and told me that that was what she saw, I knew I couldn't pretend we didn't see it anymore. From the video, we couldn't tell if they were harmful, but we were just glad to put a name to what we had seen. It definitely raised our levels of fear for what we went through that night, but now we were sure our fears were

justified. Thanks for reading our story, and remember, enjoy the view, but look out for what's hiding behind the trees. What is it called? A hide behind? A hide behind. I've never heard of that. Me neither. Can you Google it really quick? Can I Google it? Please share with everyone. Says the hide behind is a creature from American folklore described as a tall shadowy figure

that lurks in the woods and is known for the ability to conceal itself, often appearing behind trees or other objects. It is said to prey on unsuspecting humans, particularly loggers, and is feared for its ability to disembowel its victims. Oh. Okay. So that took a turn. I don't want to be disemboweled.

Oh, my God. Good thing. I have no idea what it was before. Yeah, imagine if you knew that. You'd be running like hell. Oh, my God. But she would just like, look. Respect.

Well, at first, she was just staring at like right where she saw, like, acknowledging I see you, I respect you, your space, I'm leaving. It seemed like what her grandmother had said. And it's funny that that whole story, he was like, I didn't want to freak my wife out. And she was like, I knew exactly what was happening the entire time. And I was trying to not freak you out. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, my God. Okay. So a new fear to have add it to the list. Hide behinds. I've never heard of that. Does it say like a region? Because usually it's like they're in specific areas. I wonder if it's like a Texas thing or a southern thing. For some reason I get like, and I don't know if it's the description.

It's just like the forest of, oh, it says most commonly found in the forest of the northern United States in Canada. What? It says throughout American logging country. Okay. They're here. Well, I guess they don't follow the norm because they're in Texas. For some reason I feel like I picture, and I think it's because of the description of like the shadowy, like whatever. But I think of Dementors. Yeah. Like the wispy, like creepy, dark. It's funny because when you look at pictures of it, there's a ton of different ones of like how they're portrayed.

But one of the first one looks like cousin it with a tail. What? And I'm like, that is not. And that's the only one. That's the rest are a lot different. But okay, well, my last story is titled A Visit from Glenda Bradley. Who's Glenda Bradley? You know who Glenda Bradley is.

I do. Yes, and it'll come back to you. Will it? Hey, girls. I hope you're doing well since Borneo and have soaked up this fall weather. Okay, so, hi. Like, we were in Borneo like eight months ago. Yeah.

But that just shows that trail tales can pop up at any time. Anytime. Anytime. And I want to be so transparent. I had a moment when I was reading this of like, I feel like I've heard this before. So, because I know we have shared one trail tale twice by accident. Again, I don't have a great memory. And I am the keeper of trail tales. So I was like, oh, I guess. I think it was like, we shared it once on the show. And then I accidentally put it as like a bonus trail like months later. And people are like, we have heard this before, I swear to God. And I kind of had like a moment of, I feel like I've heard this story before.

So if I have read it, here it is again. But surprise. But I think it might be because Michaela from Borneo wrote this. Oh, and told us in Borneo. Maybe. Okay. I don't know. You tell me if you've ever heard this before.

Welcome to National Park After Dark. Okay. So with that disclaimer out of the way, I have to share this story with you guys from a trip I just made to the Smokies. Okay, so never mind. She didn't share it. God, I'm losing it. Okay, wow. Okay, so that theory's out of there. Anyway, I'm sending it in trail-tail style if you want to share it in the pod, but no pressure. I'll start this story by saying I am typically a believer of coincidences. I know, I know that's not the norm around here, but for me personally, I'm typically want to explain a way as much as I can. For better or worse, I tend to be a black,

and white thinker and always try to find explanations for the weirder experiences that I've had in my life. But this experience felt very different, and now I may be second-guessing my quick nature to dismiss the more magical moments in life. Over the last few years, I've started a new tradition of going on solo camping trips for my birthday. This year was no different, and I decided to spend a few days in the Great Smoky Mountains. I headed out with really no plans at all, just a few trails, downloaded on all trails, and the hopes of spotting a black bear at the end of the season. My birthday is early in November, so I knew the chances were low. I booked the only front country campsite left, I'm a bit of a late planner, which happened to be at the Elkmont campground.

The first night I stayed put and just enjoyed the night at my campsite, aside from my neighbors playing heavy metal music on their speakers well past 10 p.m. It was a great night. The next morning, I woke up early to catch the sunrise and headed out to do a few trails. The day before, I asked a ranger where I may have good luck catching a glimpse of a black bear. They recommended the Roaring Fork area and Little River Trail. I started with the Rainbow Falls Trail off Roaring Fork Motor Trail. While the hiking was amazing, I had no such luck finding a black bear. After that, I went and had lunch at a picnic site so I could kill some time before heading to the Little River Trail for a hike closer to dusk.

I ended up hiking the Little River to Cucumber Gap Loop Trail. another one recommended by the ranger for bear spotting. I was out past dark, but again, no such luck finding a bear. This trail head is right by the Elkmont Campground, so I headed back to call it a night. While making dinner and enjoying my fire, I popped my headphones in and scroll through my Spotify to find and download episodes of NPAD to listen to. Unplanned, but perfectly fitting, I had your great Smoky Mountains tooth and claw collab saved, so I threw that on for a re-listen.

I vaguely remembered the story but was excited to learn that it took place right on the trail I had just been on earlier that evening. I was just a mile and a half shy of the bridge where Glenda had encountered the sow and her cub. Oh, I remember her now. For those unfamiliar with Glenda's story, she had the unfortunate title of being the first person to be killed by a black bear within the Great Smoky Mountain National Park area. The next day, I had to head out of the park and make the journey home, but I had a few hours in the morning to kill. I decided I would wake up and head out on the Little River Trail again and make it for the sight of Glenda's tragic mauling. Maybe a bit morbidly, I was also hoping on this last hike

I may finally have my highly desired Black Bear sighting. The next morning, I did just that and hiked the four miles out to the metal bridge that crosses the river on the Goshen Prong Trail, just past the connection on the Little River Trail, where Glenda had split paths with her husband before the attack. There were very little people out on the trail, and it was a peaceful morning with crisp fall weather, blue skies, and blue birds chirping endlessly. The hike was beautiful, and when I made it to the bridge, I felt a genuine heaviness wash over me. It was a strange mix of sadness from the history of that spot, mixed with the joy that comes from being in such a beautiful place.

I tried to sit with my thoughts and really think about Glenda. I hoped she would still want people to enjoy this beautiful place and see past her horrible experience there. I imagined she would be happy to see the smiling faces or laughter of all the people who have hiked this trail in the 20 years since her death. While I sat in the heaviness of it all, I took note of just how alone I felt in that moment. In thinking about Glenda, that's what stood out the most. Just how alone she must have felt going through that experience with no one around to help her. I felt scared and sorry for her and was thinking almost, I wish I could tell her just how sorry I am that she had to experience that.

in a place like this. Now, I think a lot of people may know this, but if not, I want to mention a common mythology about butterflies. Some believe that butterflies can be the souls of the dead coming back to visit with us. I don't know much about the origin of this, but I believe there are some ties to the indigenous peoples of Mexico. For me personally, I know of this myth because my mom is a firm believer, citing many a time where she had her mother or sister on her mind, and out of seemingly nowhere a butterfly would appear. Now remember, I do think there are such thing as coincidences. This, however, just felt too coincidental. Now back to the moment in the Great Smoky Mountains, where in early November, most butterflies would have migrated south or begun hibernation by that

point. As I stood on this bridge, mind and heart full on thoughts and emotions about Glenda, seemingly out of nowhere, came a butterfly. I watched it fly out from the trees on the northwest bank of the river from the exact direction where Glenda had died. The butterfly flew up to the right of me, about three to four feet away, and as I watched it, my first thought was, huh, that's weird, noting it was weird to see a butterfly that time of year. I hadn't seen a single one up until that point, nor would I see another. Then my very next thought was, I wonder if that is Glenda. I swear, the second this thought crossed my mind, the butterfly flew directly at my face,

coming within an inch of my nose, so close that I took a step back, thinking it was about to land directly on my face. Then in an instant, it was gone. Lost to the tree line on the left, and the tears were running down my face before I even had a second to rationalize the experience away. Me, a total believer in coincidences, am left 100% convinced that this was Glenda. I believe it as if it were a fact, and even though I've tried to explain it away, I can't account for the emotional heaviness that encounter carried. I believe maybe she was happy to see me enjoying the beautiful spot in the river, or maybe she was just there to say thank you for thinking of her all these years later. I'm still not sure why, but I believe that I was visited by Glenda Bradley that day in the

Great Smoky Mountains. Maybe not the black bear sighting I was hoping for, but butterflies are beautiful too. Thanks for the read. I'll attach some photos of the bridge where Glenda spent the last few moments of her life, Michaela. Wow, that was a really cool story. And I love that. you got you changed your view on coincidences. Even if it was just for that one isolated event. You know, you don't have to change your mind about everything, but just being open to the possibility of certain magical moments is, I think, life changing in a way. And I'm really like, I don't know. I just, I think that that experience was meant to happen to you for a reason. And I'm glad that you thought of Glenda and in a different way because, you know, when we did that story with the tooth and claw guys,

that was a couple of years ago now. And anytime people at least that didn't know her in life talk about her, it's that event. And it carries such like a heavy sadness. And I mean, because it's an awful way to have your life ended and just brutal. And it seems like Michaela was just thinking of her in just a different way. Yeah. You know? So anyway, I love that.

one. Thanks, Michaela. Yes, thank you, Michaela. Oh, and I have a, not a joke, but like a question of if something is trying to visit and connect with me right now because I have, so we have hummingbirds in our yard, but I have this one hummingbird that is constantly like following me around. When I sit on the porch, the hummingbird, we do have a hummingbird feeder out there, but this hummingbird keeps coming in and flying directly in front of my face and just looking at me and then leaving. And it keeps doing this. And then when I'm in the house, I was, we were in a meeting yesterday. And I was sitting inside.

And it was just sitting outside my window, staring at me through the window. And I've noticed it a few different times where I am in the house. I'll look out the window and it's just hovering there looking at me. And then in the garden, there's a tree there that it is full of flowers right now. So it's always out there. But it'll fly into the garden. and it'll just like be next to me. And we're like, hmm.

And every year that I've been here, we've had hummingbirds. And I'll have like an instance where I'll be on the porch and a hummingbird will fly in and then fly away. But not like, it's just sitting there and like staring at me for like it'll be like a solid like three or four seconds and then it flies away. But I've never had them just sitting outside the window like staring at me. Yeah. Like it's not weird to see hummingbirds because I see them all the time in our yard. but just like something's different. So we're like, is someone trying to say hi to me?

I don't know, are they? I don't know. I don't have a connection to humming words with anybody, so I don't know who it would be if it was, but I'm just noticing it. Yeah. I guess my only thought or my first thought with that is just like when those things happen,

try and think of like what your mind was on right before. Or like where, like, I don't know. Just think of, you know, because sometimes for me when I see something, it's like, okay, that particular thing makes me think of a particular person. But sometimes it's like could be reversed. It's like you're thinking if there's a connection and every time you're seeing this hummingbird and you're like, I was just thinking of this person or this thing. And then you see it. It's like maybe it's a reverse thing. It's more of like a confirmation type thing instead of a trick. I don't know. It's hard to... Yeah. I'll have to be more cognizant of it because it's been in random times. Like, we were literally in a meeting and I looked outside and it was just sitting there and it was there for like, I would say it was there for like 10 seconds. And I wanted to be like, there's not having word, but we were like in the middle of a business meeting.

Well, I will keep me posted. I would love to know. Oh yeah, we have two more stories. We do. We have two more stories. Thank you everyone for tuning in. If you want to hear our next stories. They are on Patreon and Apple subscriptions. Mine is titled The Spider House near Rocky Mountain National Park. And mine is titled, Do you really need more signs? Yes. Probably. The answer is yes. Always. Okay. We'll see you guys over there. Yeah. See you next time. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch you back. Bye. Bye. 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 NPADPodcast.com.

Bonus trail tales and content are available to Patreon members and Apple subscribers. Follow the show on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X at National Park After Dark. And if you prefer to watch our episodes, you can find us on YouTube at National Park After Dark. And as always, if you enjoy the show, please take a moment to rate, review, and subscribe wherever you listen to. podcasts. You're listening to this podcast, so I know you've got a curious mind. Here's a helpful fact you may not know yet. Drivers who switch and save with Progressives save over $900 on average. Pop over to progressive.com, answer some questions, and you'll get a quick quote with discounts that are easy to come by. In fact, 99% of their auto customers earn at least one discount.

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