National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 77

Episode Date: September 25, 2025

Today’s stories include being locked in taxidermy museums, meeting legends, lightning escapes, ghostly hikes and trolling blue butterflies. Outsiders Only bonus stories available for Patreon and Apple Subscribers!For 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!Hello Fresh: Use our link to get up to 10 FREE meals and a free item for life.Cash App: Download Cash App Today: [SECURE10] #CashAppPod. Cash App is a financial services platform, not a bank. Banking services provided by Cash App’s bank partner(s). Prepaid debit cards issued by Sutton Bank, Member FDIC. See terms and conditions at https://cash.app/legal/us/en-us/card-agreement. Direct Deposit, Overdraft Coverage and Discounts provided by Cash App, a Block, Inc. brand. Visit http://cash.app/legal/podcast  for full disclosures.Monsters Among Us: Listen to Monsters Among Us Podcast now  on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts.Graza: Take your food to the next level with Graza Olive Oil. Visit https://graza.co/NPAD and use promo code NPAD today for 10% off of the TRIO! 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. This episode is brought to you by Prime. Obsession is in session. And this summer, Prime Originals have everything you want. Steamy romances, irresistible love stories, and the book to screen favorites you've already read twice. Off campus, L, every year after, the love hypothesis, Sterling Point, and more.

Slow burns, second chances, chemistry you can feel through the screen. Your next obsession is waiting. Watch only on Prime. Hello, everyone. Welcome to another Trail Tales episode. We are so excited to have you here. But first things first before we get started, it's very important that you know that today is coming down to the wire for the last time that you can get your merch for spooky season. It's selling out fast. It's not going to be available much longer. So go grab it. We have tie-dye, if you haven't heard, if you haven't seen. For Monday's episode, I'm still wearing the tie-dye shirt

today and we have a lot of cool stuff on there so go hop over there yeah down to the wire for the last couple of days so if you want a you got haunted shirt now don't say we didn't tell you it was available because we are but anyway yeah um you can go to n paddpodcast.com which we revamped the site it's so nice if you are like interested in going to see our little like it's just a refresh Yeah, it's really cute. Yeah, it does look really nice. Yeah. So the shop page is directly linked on that.

So you can go poke around and see what's there. Or if you're like, hey, I don't want any of that stuff, that's fine. But if you do want stuff in the future, we're working on that as well. So, all right, that's enough business. That was exhausting. I want to tell some stories. Okay, let's hear them. And I want to go second because the title of yours is really intriguing me.

Okay. Your first one. We could definitely do that. Let's hop right in. Okay. So my first one is titled Locked in the Bryce Canyon National Parks Taxidermy Museum. What I tell you. It is intriguing. Starting strong.

I already know I do not want to be locked in this place. I'm interested. You would like to be locked in? All right. Let's go. I owe my sister-in-law big time for getting me hooked on your podcast a few years back. As a nature lover, true crime junkie, you're kind of my perfect. match. I think you'll get why after this story. In March 2016, my fiance, now husband, and I went on a

trip to cross off a few more national parks off of our bucket list. We spent the majority of our week's vacation exploring Zion National Park, hiking by day, and hot tubbing with mountain views by night. What a dream. The last two nights of our trip, we had reservations at a motel and Bryce Canyon National Park. In the short distance between the parks, we watched a skiff of snow accumulate on the desert landscape. By the time we got to Bryce Canyon, all but one trail was closed in the park due to the snow. We hiked that trail twice, posed with Thor's hammer, hit all the scenic viewpoints, and realized we still had a day and a half left in the most inaccessible park. My fiance's idea, why don't we check out the taxidermy museum we passed by on our way up to the park? Now, he knew

this was a stretch. As a lifelong vegetarian who is against hunting for sport, even I was surprised that I agreed to check it out. I guess there's only so much cops you can watch in a motel room in Utah without a beer run in sight. We got to the museum and the owner excitedly greeted us. You could tell it had been a very quiet day with the snow. He was thrilled to show off an extensive collection of animals that he boasted he, quote, mostly hunted himself. We'd been there a whole three minutes when he said he had to run a quick errand to the post office, but that we should stay and keep looking. He walked out the door and we heard a loud click. He had locked the front door. He had locked the front door. and the interior of the door did not have a deadbolt or knob to let ourselves out.

We were locked in a motherfucking taxidermy museum. For some reason, I thought this was like going to be an overnight situation. Like they closed. Like night at the museums, but night at the taxidermy museum. Yeah, I didn't realize it was like within five minutes of arriving in the middle of the day. That would scare me so bad if I walked into some weird taxidermy shop and the guy was like, oh, I just have to run a quick errand. I'll be back soon. Oh, you would lose your mind.

I'd be on the phone with the police immediately. I'd be like, I'm being kidnapped. I am in a taxidermy museum. I don't like close in spaces. Don't lock me in. Yeah, that would not go well for me. And it, this person feels the same way because they say at this point, I'm starting to panic, which turns into a game for my fiance. He starts in with, do you think the other building is where his. he taxidermies humans and, well, at least we have good company. Pan's arms to the hundreds of dead animals staring at us with cold plastic eyes. His laughter and jokes started to fade when we were still in there 45 minutes later. The quote, quick errand turned out to be almost an hour long.

The owner chuckled when he got back that he had run into a friend and lost track of time chatting. Little did he know, I almost yanked an antelope off the wall to bust out a window with its horns. I just about ran out of the building when the front door unlocked. While we can laugh about it now, that was the longest hour of my life. I've been wanting to share this story since I started listening to NPAD, but a part of me has always felt guilty sharing since the museum owner was genuinely so nice and had trusting intentions, we think. But then again, the man locked us in a taxidermy museum,

so I think I'm a thousand percent justified in sharing this. Enjoy the view, but use the buddy system when it comes to taxidermy museums. Cheers, Lauren. I can't believe she didn't call anyone. You would have called, I would have given you five minutes. Oh, okay. So I was being generous. Yeah, I would have banged on the glass for him to turn around. And if he didn't, I would have called 911. Yeah. I mean, which is fair because you don't know their intentions. And it feels, you can't just lock people in a building. In a building and leave. Yeah. And it sounds like it was genuinely a mistake and he was probably a really nice person and hopefully has not done it since. Um, thankfully, but just especially, I mean, maybe if I was with Al, I wouldn't feel that way. But if I was, if it was me and you, or if I was by myself as a girl locked in a building by a man, I would call the police immediately. With a bunch of dead animals around. With a bunch of dead animals. Yeah. Yeah. Like if Al was there, I feel like he would do the same thing. Her partner did where start choking and laughing. Make light of it. For sure. Yeah. I can envision that. So then maybe I would, I would last a little longer. Up to 10, maybe. Okay. You're like, okay, I've had enough. I'm not that interested in it. See, I feel like I would, I feel like I would milk that 45 minutes pretty easily, like looking around, depending on the vibe.

Depending on, because at first I was like, oh, like a museum, but the way it's described, it feels like it's more of somebody's like personal collection. Yeah. That is like, I don't know. That's how serial killer stories begin. I don't know. So I was. A couple months ago and Jeff came to visit and we went there's a museum that's like kind of in a nearby community that's just like in an old like building. And like it's a true it's not somebody's personal collection from present day, but you go into the museum. I had no idea what to expect. I didn't know what this museum was even about. I was just like you feel like you're, it seems like you're bored. So let's do something. So we go and lo and behold.

it is, it is somebody's personal taxidermy collection from like the 1800s. And this person was like, she, oh, she was the fiance of John Wilkes Booth. Oh, I remember telling me this actually. Yes. And I forget her name. Which is really funny. But anyway. So she. The worst taxidermy ever. She came from like a lot of money. So she had a ton of like philanthropic pursuits. And I guess she donated her personal. I mean, there are thousands of. taxiderm, everything from like big game animals to like thousands of butterflies to eggs of all kinds to reptile. It was a lot. And I feel like Jeff was like Ace Ventura in that scene of, you know, when he walks into the trophy head collection and he's like gasping. He's like, where have you

taken me? I'm like, I'm really sorry. I'm just so sorry, but we're here. Enjoy this 10 foot bear. polar bear and he's like that's really sad like i i hate it here she's like get me back to utah this is upsetting anyway okay um roundabout way of saying i spent 45 minutes very easily so i don't even know if i would know i was locked in yeah 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 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. Okay. We're taking a different turn. We're going to a natural disaster type thing. Okay. This story is titled A Close Call with Lightning in the Chiarikawa National Monument.

Cassie and Danielle, I'm a longtime listener of your show and a first-time story submitter. I told the following story to my sister Hannah, also a big NPAD fan, who urged me to send it into you. So shout out Hannah, and here's my story about a sketchy lightning storm in the Chiricahua National Monument. I awoke that morning at a quarter after four with the wild urge to get out and go hiking. I had gotten back late the night before from hanging out with friends, but despite the little sleep, I felt especially energized. I checked the weather forecast as I packed my gear. It was July and the first monsoon storms had already hit Tucson a week before. Monsoons can be hazardous for hikers, with lightning and flash floods being routine features of the

late afternoon storms alongside heavy rain, high winds, and hail. I was unconcerned about storms, however, as I intended to be off the trail well before the storms usually arrived, and the forecast indicated nothing out of the ordinary for that afternoon. I hit the road as the sun broke over the Rincon Peaks east of town and raced along I-10 towards the mountains. It was 7.30 when I parked my car at Mossai Point and began the 10-mile circuit through the National Monuments Hoodoo forests. Shrubby junipers and stately ponderosa pines grew amongst towering gray columns of volcanic tough. Agave, Yucca, and cactus made up the underbrush, filling out the classic Sky Island ecosystem found in the mountains of southern Arizona and New Mexico. While keeping any

eye out for wildlife, I located the greatest natural walking stick I have ever found. This detail may sound dumb, but I just can't express how perfectly straight, ergonomic, and well-proportioned this staff was. It seemed tailored just to me, and combined with the empty trails and beautiful weather, was just another lucky addition to an already auspicious day. By 930, I made it to Inspiration Point, a high vista which gives incredible views into the interior canyons of the National Monument. I found a small ammo box hidden beside a tough boulder with Open Me, scratched into the lid. Opening it revealed a notebook and pen for hikers to leave messages, along with dozens of fragments of paper, coins, seashells, a picture of someone's pet peacock, and more. My favorite note read, enjoy a beer on us, weary traveler, sorry, it's

PBR, Ned and Ashley 3-2-24. I left a short note of my own and continued hiking. I took big balanced rock trail past its namesake into the heart of the rock's loop where I ate my lunch amongst the hoodoos. Visible to the south were the largest of the Chiracar was, irregular mountains, which alternated between jagged ridges and wide, rounded peaks. Many extended intert timber zones where trees clumped in dark patches, giving the mountains a look like the back of a great buffalo shedding his shaggy winter hide. I hiked down into the Sarah Deming Canyon, thankful again to have my trusty staff as I navigated the steep terrain before heading east and north up the walls of Rialite Canyon. Around noon, as I descended the northern wall of Echo Canyon,

I turned back and saw dark thunderheads gathering about the mountain peaks. In the hour or so that I had been in the canyons with sight line cut off to the south, monsoon storms had moved in. My mood instantly darkened. I increased my pace to stay ahead of the storm clouds, which swept north and west with astonishing speed. I was deep in Echo Canyon, climbing higher into the northern hoodos when the thunder and lightning began to crack and boom on the plains to the west. I began to really regret my position. I was under the ragged edge of the storm. The sky split black and blue above my head.

The safest place from the lightning would have been deep down in the canyon, but that would have involved hiking back under the storm clouds and trading the threat of lightning for that of flash floods. I debated sheltering in place among the hoodoos, but the weather was only going to worsen, and I really doubted the ability of the volcanic tough to protect me from the lightning, recalling an NPAD episode about hikers struck by lightning in a cave on Yosemite's half dome. Who could ever forget that? That was really upsetting.

Yeah, that was an awful episode. My best option appeared to be hiking with all haste back to my car. Their trail was very exposed along the room of Echo Canyon, but there were only two miles left and I was still somewhat ahead of the storm. I decided to press my advantage and booked it. I knew that lightning could strike even in clear conditions and I was under no illusion that just because I was on the edge of the storm that I was safe. The truth was that at that point, no option was safe, and the best thing I could do was to minimize my time exposed to the storm. While the hoodos conveyed a psychological comfort and gave the feeling of cover, I knew they

offered no actual protection from any incoming lightning strikes. For the first time in years, I felt legitimate fear about the situation that I was in. I remembered that the average person has a one in 11,000-ish chance of being struck by lightning in their lifetimes. I wondered what the probability was for me now. I was unsure about the exact amount of risk I faced. I doubted my decision to charge down the last couple miles of the trail, and I flinched at every peal of thunder. But I stuck with my decision and kept my thoughts on the shrinking trail ahead of me and humored myself with thoughts about what stories would be told in the wake of my electrified annihilation. At least I'd go suddenly while doing something I loved, Hannah at least would understand. I was

practically running from cover to cover between stands of hoodoos. I held my walk. I held my walk walking stick horizontally at my side as I navigated stairs, rocks, and boulders, winding my way ever closer to the trailhead. At one point, I nearly halted at the sight of a large gap in the hoodoo's, 50 or so feet that was completely open. I kept my eyes on the blue sky ahead of me and hurried across it, but by midway, the thought occurred to me that my loyal hiking staff might cause me more risk than benefit, that I might be carrying a wooden lightning rod that could make the difference between getting hit or getting home. It had been with me all day. contributing to a sense of confidence and fearlessness during my terse mental deliberations

about the incoming storm and my rapid evacuation from the canyon. But in that moment of exposure and fear, my nerve broke and I dropped it. As I rushed along the trail into the next patch of cover, I turned to look behind me and saw my faithful friend lying betrayed and abandoned in the dust. I kept going and soon it was out of view. It's like Wilson. Wilson. Wilson, no. At this point, I was close to the Echo Canyon Trailhead, which lay a quarter mile or so ahead of Moss Eye Point. Thunder boomed behind me, and I whispered a repetitive chant for safety aimed as much at heaven as it was at whatever spirits yet remain among the hoodos. I scrambled around an outcropping of tough boulders when I suddenly came upon a family of tourists. I was alarmed at the sight of them, casually strolling and admiring the rocks.

I quickly explained that it wasn't safe for them to be on the trail with the lightning storm bearing down. The dad said something about how they weren't planning on being there long anyways and thanked me for my concern. I nodded, realizing I wasn't going to convince them to turn around and made a mental note to tell the visitor center of the hikers I knew to still be on the trail. That family, plus one other hiker and trail runner I'd passed hours before, eight lives still on the trail. This gave the rush back to my vehicle a sense of purpose beyond the simple satisfaction of my survival instinct. In record time, I reached Moss Eye Point, drenched in sweat and laughing hysterically as I reveled in the protection of my life. my Honda Faraday cage. I pounded a lead of water and electrolytes and drove down into Bonita Canyon to talk to a ranger at the visitor center. I walked in quickly, rain beginning to pat her on the parking lot,

and made a beeline for an elderly woman sitting at the front desk. She was the only parks employee I had seen all day. I quickly relay to her the seriousness of the weather conditions outside, the eight souls still out on the trail, and the disaster that could potentially unfold. I asked if there was another ranger who could hike in, or at least sit at the trailhead and count the hikers on their way out to account for their safety, and her response dumbfounded me. Did you see the big balanced rock, she asked, completely unfazed by my concern? What? I responded. The big balanced rock, she pointed to a poster on the wall. Did you see it? Um, yeah, I responded, absolutely perplexed. Did you take a photo of it? She asked. Yeah, uh, I think so. I said unsure of what the hell was going on with this lady.

Well, that means you hiked at least five miles today and you get a pin. She produced a small metal pin from the drawer in front of her bearing the image of the big balanced rock. This lady completely disregarded everything I told her of the storm, the hikers, the deteriorating weather conditions. I was soaked with sweat, flushed with exertion, rain was audibly hitting the roof. I just told her of the imminent possibility of loss of life and this crazy old bat wanted to give me a pin. I hesitated for a second and began to turn around at the same moment a ranger walked in the door. Relieved at the site of another park's employee, I shot out a quick thank you to the lady at the desk, took the pin for some reason, question mark and then quickly relayed everything to the other ranger. She listened and thanked me for the

information, adding that the monument had a procedure for bad weather and would make sure everyone would make it off of the trail safely. I thanked her and walked back to my vehicle, letting the rain fall on me as I strode across the parking lot. I sat a moment before I turned the engine on, processing everything that had just happened, and meditating on the new respect I had for the weather. I vowed to do more research on lightning safety, look at more than one forecast before committing to a long hike and make no assumptions about weather, regardless how clear and sunny the day seemed. I urge other listeners to do the same when participating in the outdoors. In addition to the preparations we make for the risks presented by wildlife, terrain, temperature,

and more, it is important to never leave home without a contingency for sudden bad weather, especially during yearly periods of unpredictable patterns like monsoon season in Arizona. Thank you for reading my story. I wrote it more as a thank you for providing good information about stories about the outdoors. I really did think about the Yosemite lightning fatalities during my own lightning experience, and it convinced me to not shelter in the safe feeling, but actually unsafe hoodoes. I'm also pretty sure that the one in 11,000 statistic came from your episode about Sparky, the Shenandoah Ranger who got struck several times during his life as a ranger. Seven times, actually. Or no, 11.

I don't know. I don't know. You guys can tell me. By sharing stories that may seem macabre about the risky, hazardous, and deadly situations that claim the lives of other unfortunate, Outdoorsman, you provide lessons for the rest of us to live by. Alongside Tooth and Claw and other podcasts that feature stories of wilderness survival scenarios, you provide an incredible source of entertaining information that undoubtedly has helped inform the actions of other hikers to their benefit. So thank you for your podcast, and I look forward to the next episode,

sincerely Jordan. Well, glad you made it out, Jordan. Yeah, that's scary. It's like, I feel like in older age and with the knowledge of what we've now learned over the journey of National Park After Dark. I don't know. You used to like get really stoked for thunder and lightning storms, especially in the summer as they roll in in the afternoons here in New England. It's just, it's a really like almost comforting type of thing or I used to find it cozy. Yeah, but now I'm scared. Same. We've scared ourselves for sure. And I think there's just something different about where I live too because I'm at higher elevation and I'm kind of towards the top of a mountain. And your neighbor's fucking outhouse blew up with a lightning strike. And my neighbors actually got

struck by lightning. Not the people, just their outhouse. Yeah. And sometimes when we're up here, I mean, the thunder is so loud. And I just feel, I'm not the tallest thing around me, which is helpful. And that's something important to know is that lightning usually goes for the tallest thing around. So even in the hoodoos, you know. Yeah, but can it bounce around? around and it can and I mean it's definitely not a safe situation and glad you got out of there but even with that like where they say wherever you are you just don't want to be the tallest thing around and also if you're outdoors and there's really nowhere to shelter to stand on your backpack and curl up and wait it out because you're creating a gap between you so if the ground or something

near you get struck that electricity is not going to come up through your feet if you're standing on your backpack. Of course, if you have like metal and shit on it, like, make sure that's off of it. But yeah, I just, when I'm at my house now, I hear it the lightning or I hear the thunder. Lightning, yeah. You're in the market for a- And it's so close. I'm in the market for a lightning rod. Yeah. So if anyone knows how to get one in Vermont, because I have been struggling to find someone who actually installs them, please let me know. Yeah. Because I'm scared. I'm scared. You first told me all of that when I was physically trapped. at your house when the roads were eroding away.

Yeah. And you're like, oh, by the way, it's really dangerous up here and you're stuck and we can't leave. Like, do you like my house? Get me out of here. There's a scam going on right now that almost got me about unpaid. Okay, my next story is titled Jenny Lake Ranger. Hello, ladies. This isn't so much a trail tale.

It's more of an expression of my gratitude for your education of all things National Park. I am a fairly new listener. I stumbled upon your podcast while looking for two of my favorite things, national parks and societal history, especially of the haunted variety. One of the first episodes I listened to was a trail tale about a rescue from the Jenny Lake Rangers, where I learned they are the badass elite of the MPS Rangers. Just this last week, my family and I traveled to Wyoming for my husband's dad's surprise 80th birthday, just about 30 miles from Jackson Hole. Fortunately, I have an extended family who loves hiking, so a few were up for a quick hike to the Teton's. I hadn't put Jenny Lake and the Teton's together until someone mentioned doing the Lake drill, and it dawned on me. I told the family about the Jenny Lake Rangers and my desire to meet one.

They thought I was a little ridiculous, but I felt no shame. Imagine David Rhodes of Schitt's Creek with his snarky response of not feeling shame for the mall pretzel here. Obviously, my husband and I went to the ranger cabin first thing. There were two rangers there. The younger one was helping a different couple. So I asked the older gentleman if he was one of the badasses of the exclusive Jenny Lake Rangers. He chuckled a little and said yes that he had been there for 30 years. He explained that he was one of the oldest veterans

confirmed what had been mentioned on the podcast that there was very little turnover and how the newer generation, gesturing to the other ranger, are getting prepared to take the reins. After chatting a bit, I asked if I could take a picture with him and he tried to push it off on the new arranger

and I politely, yet aggressively, with love of course, said, no, I want you, you're an OG, you've seen some shit. He laughed again and willingly complied. He came out from behind the desk like his arthritis had seen better days. He took a selfie with my husband and I and asked how I heard about the JLR. I told him it was because of your podcast.

And since I was so close, I had to meet the greatness in person and get a picture so I could die happy. As we were thanking him and leaving the Ranger cabin, he threw out, we should listen to the Lightning Strike episode. We went for a hike to the waterfalls and inspiration point and on the way home turned on episode 13. Little did we know, the Ranger we talked to, Jack McConnell, was one of the two rangers who ran slash scaled the mountain in 45 minutes to get to the injured. Holy nutballs. Our jaws dropped. The dude with arthritis and bow legs is truly a hero and a freaking savage. I was in awe meeting him, but after learning about his heroism, I wish I was able

to express the astonishment directly. I feel very fortunate to have met such an amazing human and get a picture with him. One of the coolest aspects is how much you can tell he still loves his job after 30 years. I just wanted to thank you ladies for the podcast and love you share for all cool stories surrounding the amazing playgrounds in our country. I've shared your podcast with several work friends, but you for sure have a large following for my extended family now. I included pictures of the fraction of my family who went to the Teton's, as well as the picture of my husband and I took with Jack. Please keep doing what you do. Much love and appreciation. Gwen. Well, I subconsciously put those two trail, the one I just read about Jordan thinking about

the Lightning Strike episode and now, you know what I mean? Yeah, you always find like a little theme in there. I know. And I put these together like kind of months ahead of time. So it feels like I'm listening to it for the first time. We'll see. Cool. I mean, it's cool to see like people actually making real life connections and stuff through the stories we share. So that's always fun. And it's nice that you're showing a bunch of love for the people who are involved too. Yeah. And deserve it of that to love. Yes. My second story is titled, Eminent Doom is lurking beneath Safeway. Yes, it relates to nature, question mark.

I always was suspicious of Safeway, so I'm intrigued. Deep beneath the grounds of the small mountainous community of Nevada City slash Grass Valley, California, lies something that third grade me was terrified of. Something lurking, waiting to give in, and wreak havoc. Safeway. Dot, dot, dot, da. Hi ladies, my name is Will. Feel free to use my name. I have changed the names of other people involved. I live in Bellingham, Washington, but previously lived in Nevada City, California, where this story takes place. You called for small city lore, and here I am providing. Although, I don't know if people were as genuinely terrified as I was. So I don't know if this counts, but it is definitely known by the public. It has caused many sinkholes and a few newspaper articles and studies done about this. So Nevada City is a town in northern California that became pretty popular during the gold rush. This will be important

to the story as I get into it. So without further ado, I was in Mrs. Zell's third grade class. As any other third grader, I was bouncing up and down with energy ready to learn about the gold rush. He was the first day of the unit after all, who wasn't excited. Actually, everyone. Everyone wasn't excited. Everyone but me. We looked at the map of the Empire Mine State Park and learned about what gold was. We ended it with city lore. Deep beneath the ground, there are 367 miles of flooded underground mining tunnels that extend all throughout the city. The weakest spot was right below our local safeway, where I go all the time with my mom and is less than a mile from our house. I mean, she had to be joking, right?

Nope, she was not. You know that scene at the end of Season 4 of Stranger Things where it is just the ground ripped open and looks like pure hell? that was going to happen at Safeway. Where would I get my ice cream? Where would I get the stupid little Safeway monopoly cards that I never won anything from? I wasn't really concerned about food as much as I was about those things. I was the only person scared of the Safeway giving out when I was inside of it. I wouldn't step in it for months, probably six to ten because I didn't want to sink into the ground. A 2022 report deemed the underground mining tunnels very unstable. I was going to end up with the donkeys that couldn't pull themselves out, and that wouldn't happen if I didn't go in. Thankfully, while I

lived there, nothing did happen beneath Safeway, but I will not be going back. So for those who are wondering, how does this connect to a nature or a national park? As I said earlier, Empire Mine is a state park. Does this count? Yes, of course, counts. And it is where those tunnels originate from. Also, I don't know if this is quite small city lore, but Eminent Doom is lurking beneath Safeway deep, deep down, haunting that small city. Thanks again for all you do and hope you enjoyed the story, even if it may not count as small city lore. Enjoy the view, but don't get too close to Safeway will. I mean, the things you learn in like third grade time frame. Sticky forever. Forever. Remember like that meme that's been going around, it's like, I can't believe how

concerned I was about the sun exploding in five billion years when I was 12 or something like that. It's like, how is nobody thinking about this stuff anymore? Yeah. And it feels like that is, I mean, it seems like much more of a reality that you should be concerned about because sinkholes are very real and can be quite dangerous. If I ever see a news article that says Safeway collapsed into a sinkhole. Somewhere, Will, from Bellingham, Washington, Will is going to be like, I fucking knew it. I knew it. It's like, it's why I haven't gone in years.

I've been trying to warn the people. Yeah, so if you're in Nevada City, Safeway, be careful out there. Be careful out there, yeah. Use our code NPAD at Safeway. Do you remember the Monopoly things? We had them at Shaw's, I think. Yeah, I feel like Market Basket might have had them when we were kids. Yeah.

My stepdad was so into them. Like, we had, like, stacks and stuff. stacks. And I don't know if anything ever came of them. I thought it was a scam. One day I want to try major couponing where you go in and you bring in all these groceries and then they owe you like $3. Yeah, you know who does that. We know somebody. We know an extreme couponer. We do? Yeah. Jess from our group trips. VetTech. Is she? Yes. I didn't know that. She'll post her halls on Instagram and she'll be like, you know, this was the retail you this is the coupon amount and like this is what I was owed and then she has like a picture of

her stash. I need to pick her brain. I want to just do it one time just for the thrill. Yeah. Just to see what it seems. It seems like I just want to feel something. I just want to feel something. I was like because there was a show about that. Wasn't there? Yeah, there was. Wasn't it called like major couponers or something? I don't know. But it was around the time that my mom was like my mom was like you guys can't have me and my sister like we're not doing cable like for the summer like where you need to you can have like the five basic channels and then like go outside which I'm very thankful for now but one of those channels was it always had supermarket sweep on do you remember that show it rings some bells but the whole premise was essentially contestants would like start

at a grocery store with carts and a timer would they would have like a time oh I do kind of remember that. And they would have to go and get like the most expensive things or something. And so I remember everyone would always go to the baby aisle first because every like diapers and formula and like things that were like a lot of money. Yeah. I don't know the print. The details are fuzzy. But that made me feel something when I was 10. I guess. I'm like, what are they doing? So the opposite of extreme couponers. Yeah. You were watching that. I was watching SpongeBob. Yeah. The trauma our parents put us through. Okay. Do you have another one? I'm lost. I do. Okay. Mine is titled, The Ghost of a Royal Park and a Bonus Story, where I become the source of some family lore and it involves a serial killer. Okay.

Hey ladies and the rest of the NPAD community. It's tradition to begin these trail tales with gushing about how loved you both are and how this is hands down the best podcast ever. Come. Thank you. I have binged through all your episodes to the point where I can only allow myself to listen while I'm at the gym, so I don't go through them too fast. It also encourages me to extend my workouts so I can keep listening longer. I find myself captivated by your storytelling, and it's also really fun to hear all your side tangents. Thank you. Hope you enjoyed that last one. Yeah. We have lots of them. We're just giving the people what they want. My trail tale begins in 2018. I was going to going to school in Seattle and it was the beginning of my senior year of college. I have always enjoyed

hiking and camping growing up and I wanted to do more of it in my life, but for some reason felt stuck. At some point, I realized I could just go alone. I didn't need permission or an invitation from anyone else. So I made it a goal that for my remaining time in Seattle, I would make experiencing the incredible outdoor areas nearby a priority. I did my first solo hike in Snow Lake in the Mount Baker Snowqually National Forest and I was absolutely a little. The next weekend, I was still riding the high as I set out to hike Raptor Ridge in a Royal Park in Bellingham, Washington. Oh, my. Another Wellington. Another connection. You guys know each other? What am I doing?

There's themes in all of them. There are always themes in every trail tales. Where the trail begins is relatively close to town and there are even some houses along some stretches of trail before it goes deeper into the forest. I was excited to get out again, but I soon came to realize the vibe was completely. different this time. First, the driving directions I had gotten off all trails were incorrect, and it had me driving up a gravel road that seemed more like a driveway, and I began passing abandoned cars, scavenge RVs, and piles of junk that began to grow bigger and bigger as I drove. It was sketchy, so I turned around and pulled into a dark, eerily lit gas station to try and piece together some better directions. Soon, I was on my way and was pulling into the correct

parking lot. As I got out of my car and got my gear together, I just had a weird feeling, like I wasn't supposed to be there. At one point, another car pulled into the parking lot, parked a few minutes, then left. Also, keep in mind that it's probably close to 5 a.m. at this point, so the eerie feelings are exasperated by the fact that it was still dark. Alarm bells were going off in my head, and what did I tell myself? Eh, I drove all this way, I'm sure it's fine, and I set off on the trail. The bad feeling persisted. Every little noise startled me, and I was on high alert. I would come around a corner and my headlamp would reflect off something and make me jump thinking it was a person or a monster. At one point, I heard a really loud banshee-like screech off in the distance, and what do you know? It came from the direction I was heading. I came to a junction in the trail. It was a wider, more open area. I went over to the sign to check my trail connection. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the silhouette of a human form just a few feet away from me. It was the figure of a woman, and from what I could tell, it seemed like an indigenous woman wearing a dress, and her outline was giving off a pale green light.

By the time I had turned my head all the way towards her, she was gone and the forest was completely silent. At first, I wasn't sure what I had just seen. And then it slowly dawned on me. I had seen a ghost. Still, I hiked on, and in about 30 minutes or so, it was light enough to not need my headlamp anymore, and all my bad feelings had dissipated. I got to my destination and had the viewpoint all to myself. On my way back to the trailhead, I stopped by the spot I had my ghostly encounter to try and see if I could debunk what I had seen. I looked for clues, anything that could have caught my headlamp light, anything that could have cast a weird shadow. There was nothing. I can't explain or reason it away, so I'm sticking to my conclusion that I saw a fucking ghost. Then things got a

little weird again. I was back in the part of the park where there was a neighborhood around me, and it was supposed to be an easy walk back to my car, but I kept getting lost. I somehow got stuck on a loop walking in circles back to that same spot over and over. No matter which path I chose, it wasn't leading me back to my car. I confirmed each time I was back of the place, which trail I was supposed to take, and each time it kept me circling. I started the day with the forest telling me to leave, and now it wouldn't let me go. Eventually, I took some shortcuts that I probably wasn't supposed to. I know I'm a big leave-no-trace person, and I didn't like it, but I was desperate to get home. I found my way back to the car and drove home. Now I had this paranormal encounter,

that I didn't know how to process or make sense of. But hey, it's a good story. I definitely got haunted. That's the end of my trail tale, but I also wanted to throw in a little family lore story per your recent request. I don't even know how to ease into the story, so I'm just gonna raw dog it.

Great. Great. The night I was born, the midwife named Martha that delivered me had stayed a little later after her normal shift to finish things up with me in the hospital. She had also delivered my brother a few years earlier, so my family was familiar with her,

and we all had a really, good rapport. When she finally left to drive home, she became the victim of the serial killer known as Caesar Barron. He shot at her car, running her off the side of the road, moved her into his car, and then drove further down the road where he attempted to sexually assault her, then shot her in the head and dumped her in the road. Holy shit. That was awful. He had multiple victims from his adolescence and then a handful more victims from the Pacific Northwest. It was brutal, and I knew about the incident from a much too young of an age. That motherfucker got the death penalty but died of bone cancer while he was on death row.

He was given one last chance to talk to detectives about his crimes and give any sense of closure. He didn't give them anything. The hospital has a statue of her outside as a memorial. I went and saw it on my birthday a few years ago to tell Martha, thank you for sticking it out with me, and then I hope she would be proud of me and all the other people she had helped bring into the world throughout her career. This shit is definitely family lore, origin. worthy. The story goes further, though. When I was newly dating my partner, I had told her this story,

and she said, wait, I know about this. My partner's mom was a nurse and worked in the same hospital, so she knew Martha. After the murder, she had told my partner, who was still little, that something bad had happened to one of her co-workers and that she hoped the little girl would grow up and not feel burdened by her connection to that tragedy. My partner's mom had been praying for me my entire life, not knowing who I was, and then having me come into her life as her daughter's girlfriend. Anyways, that's all I have for you. Thanks for reading this and thank you for all that you do. I hope I run into you someday on the trail and maybe a ghost at the same time so we can all get haunted together. All the love, Sarah.

Wow. I loved both of those stories. Love the raw dog transition. Sometimes there is no natural segue, but thank you for sharing both of them because they were both so interesting. I mean, the second one is horrific. Awful. It's awful. I don't know if I was prepared for that. But a weird connection. Life is funny, though, to find that connection later in life to something like that.

And then to have that weird ghost encounter and glad to hear you're out on the trails. I will have to pass on getting haunted together, but I would love to see you on the trail. Let's leave the haunting out of it. Yeah. Okay. My last one is a little lengthy, but if I included it, I meant to. It's worth it. Okay. It is titled, My Star Cross Lover is trolling me from the afterlife as a blue butterfly. Hi, ladies, this is a trail tale that spans decades, multiple states, national parks, the material and spiritual worlds. It's long, but I promise I'll land the plane eventually. Grant was my man. That's not my man. We met when we were in our early teens at Sleep Awake, Summer Camp, in the foothills.

of the Berkshires and instantly became inseparable. Camp is where both of our love for the great outdoors started. After camp ended that first summer, we stayed up for hours at night talking on the phone. We only lived about 15 minutes away from each other, so once we could drive, we also started hanging out outside of camp. We continued to get closer throughout our teenage years and eventually transitioned from campers to counselors together. We remained extremely close. Spending our days off together, always fielding questions from those around us on whether we were together like that. We were being shipped long before that was a word. Our life paths started to diverge, me going off to college in Maryland, him staying in Connecticut,

and trying to put himself through college. Eventually, he dropped out due to financial reasons and began a more nomadic lifestyle. He started organic farming in mountain towns in exchange for room and board so he could spend his free time in the mountains, and he kept getting called back to the area surrounding Glacier National Park. He eventually settled in Whitefish, Montana and became deeply rooted in the mountaineering and organic farming community there. Over the years, we remained close, catching up through texts, phone calls, Instagram DMs. He'd visit me in Maryland when he'd make his way back east, or we tried to see each other when we were home for the holidays.

One of us was usually in a relationship, so nothing ever came out of it romantically. On one of these visits, when I'd had more than enough to drink, I proclaimed my love for him while we were stargazing. I don't recall much other than him just having a big-ass grin on his face and saying he loved me too. But still, neither of us crossed that line to more than friends. Years later, I went out to visit him while he was spending the farming off-season in Utah. We took an eight-hour round trip to Bryce Canyon to hike, and during that drive, he said, Em, remember that night you told me you loved me? I groaned and said something like, please don't embarrass me.

He gave me his smile that basically sparkled and proceeded to tell me that night was the best night of his life. He went on to say that while he loved Montana, farming and his lifestyle so much, if there was one person he would give it up all four, it would be me. I was stunned speechless. I was recently out of a serious and toxic relationship, had just moved to Boston, and was in the early stages of dating someone new. What he said scared the shit out of me. I loved him so much, but I couldn't fathom ripping him away from the things and places he loved so much. But I still always thought we'd find our way back to each other romantically. The last few years, things carried on in our usual cadence.

remaining close but never crossing the friend line, I thought we had more time. Spoiler alert, we did not. On Sunday, August 18th, 2004, Grant blissfully woke up in the back country of Glacier National Park after a night spent cowboy camping in the mountains with a friend. They went on to summit Heaven's Peak together. Grant then went on to climb McPartland Peak solo. He and his friend made a plan to meet back later that day, but Grant never showed. That evening, his friend alerted Park Rangers that he never made it to their rendezvous.

spot. What ensued was an all-hands-on-deck attempt to try and locate him by foot and by air. The area he was last seen in was super technical terrain, so only highly skilled personnel were allowed to join the search party. Before we go further, let me say Grant was a highly skilled hiker, climber, and mountaineer. He was 32 years old and had completed over 197 ascents, at least 90 of which were in glacier. He had also hiked and climbed in the Himalayas. He had an extensive list of outdoor achievements. This was his passion, and how he decided to invest his time when he wasn't busting his butt on a farm. He was also described by friends in the Glacier Mountaineering community as having no ego in all kindness.

Sure, he had a higher risk tolerance than the average person, but he understood the risks he was taking, was prepared, and knew when to call it. On Sunday, August 25, 2024, a week after he was last seen heading up McPartland, two bare air spotted his body one-third of a mile east of McPartland Peak below the ridge line between Heaven's Peak and McPartland. Partland Peak. His injuries indicated he sustained a deadly fall, a tragic accident. It gutted me and turned my world upside down. It made me rethink everything, why I lived where I did, what I was prioritizing in life, etc. His passing has been really difficult for obvious reasons. Losing someone you're close to is heartbreaking. But it's also been gut-wrenching for a much less obvious reason to those around me. I'm forced to grieve what could have been with him that we didn't have more time to find out our rate our way romantically. And I'm forced to sit with the what ifs that will never be

in this lifetime. I'm hopeful about the next lifetime, though. He was truly an amazing human. He was a goof. He was the type of guy who'd come visit you across the country and whip out a cabbage and carrot from his backpack so he could make you coleslaw with the produce he grew. He was always up for an adventure. He gave the best bear hugs. He was kind, but not so kind that he wouldn't ruthlessly roast you for your double chin in a photo. He flew by the seat of his pants and was completely unfazed by even the craziest circumstances. He always had a ridiculous story to which you'd reply, you did what? He was everyone's biggest cheerleader and supporter, always ready with words of encouragement.

He was humble beyond belief and so dang curious. He believed there was something to learn from everyone he met and he lived a life he loved. The day they announced they found his body in a press release, August 26th, 2024. What? in the today's August 26th. We're recording it one year to the date of that. Damn. One of my close friends, Paige, went to yoga.

She had never met Grant, but knew how important he was to me and had been supporting me during the time he was missing. She is more woo-woo spiritual than I am, so during a meditation, she asked for a sign. Grant, if you can hear me, show me a blue butterfly. A few days later, I was off from work and wanted to go on a hike to honor Grant. It is what he loved to do, and more importantly, something we love to do. love to do together. I was living in Boston at the time, so I picked out a trail in the White Mountains. I told Paige my plan, and like the amazing friend she is, she insisted I not go alone

and that she'd take the day off to join me. We went on our hike and had a great time. It was a beautiful late August New England Day, and it was exactly what I needed to ground myself after my world was so rocked. Paige and I were closing in on the end of our seven mile hike and were only about 800 meters from the trailhead when a blue butterfly came and landed on my arm and just stayed there. Paige and I burst into hysterical tears and laughs. The blue butterfly then flew to some of the nearby brush on the side of the trail and hung out there, letting us take photos and videos of it. And ever since, Grant sends me blue butterflies. Sometimes they're like a, hey, what's up? Hello. Please read in the Fetty Wop voice. I hope I did that justice. Like a gymnast, competing. Like a gymnast,

in the Olympics dressed as a blue butterfly or a blue butterfly painted on a city mural. Sometimes he's trolling me or flirting with me, like with an Instagram ad for a bra with blue butterfly nipple covers. Get your head out of the gutter, my man. And most often, I see them on almost every trail run and hike in the Wasatch Mountains near my home in the state of Utah and all over recent trips to the Grand Teton National Park and Sawtooth National Forest. He has a way of sending them to me when I need the most. A lot of times it's when I need a little motivation or encouragement. Someone to tell me you got this or keep on going on a hard route. Other times it's more dramatic. On a recent summit of Lone Pike in the Wasatch, a challenging 16.5 mile trail run with 5,700 feet avert on a 100 degree

day, I accidentally took a wrong turn on my descent. My watch beeped and since I had a sun hoodie covering it, I just assumed it was a mile marker. But as I looked down, I saw there was a blue butterfly at my feet that wouldn't leave. So I stopped to say hi and asked Grant why he was so obsessed with me. The butterfly then started going in the direction I had come from. I quickly chucked my watch and sure enough, my watch had beeped because I had gone off my route and the butterfly led me back to the right turnoff. It was towards the end of a pretty long, hot day and I was almost out of water. There he was looking out for me. Then on a recent backpacking trip to the sawtooth in Idaho, I got myself into a little bit of a pickle. The last day we were supposed to hike. six to seven miles out, which involved a few river crossings. It was pretty early and still pretty

crisp, so I didn't particularly feel like waiting in an ice-cold river with my heavy pack and being wet and potentially cold for the drive home. I looked at the map and saw that I should be able to bypass the river crossings by just staying on the side of the river we were already on. There were trails marked for two of the bypasses, and one of them it wasn't marked, but I thought, how bad could it be? I somehow roped a new friend into this adventure with me, and we set off to bypass that dang river. Initially, there was a bit of a trail. Then the trail became a little more sparse, so we started bushwhacking, and I followed the map to try and connect us to the trail after the river crossings. I'm looking at the map, and we're getting so close, but we started

running into some pretty big rock formations, and I'm like, hmm, I wonder where this trail is. I continue on a little farther and look down to see the trail hundreds of feet below us, essentially down a cliff. I forgot about those silly little elevation lines on the map. We started looking for routes down and every time I was like, uh, maybe we remember we have these big packs with our backpacking gear. After quite some time trying and failing to scope out a safe route down, I suggested we take a break to regroup. I was starting to panic. We didn't really have time to bushwalk back to the river crossing. Our group was going to be worried about us if we didn't show up by a certain time, but I also didn't see a way down. As soon as I found a safe place to sit, a blue butterfly came and sat right

next to me, long enough for me to tell my new friend about Grant and how he sends me blue butterflies, which as you can probably tell by now, isn't a quick story. Once the butterfly left, I took a deep breath, stood up and pretty much immediately found a safe route down. Forever my cheerleader and forever the mountain goat, Grant was just letting me know that I was capable and would get down safely. I love my blue butterfly citing so much. I got a small blue butterfly tattooed on the arm that he first landed on in the White Mountains. A little nod to live more like he did. Experience what you can while you're alive and learn and grow from everything and everyone around you. Grant was always asking me to come to Glacier into Montana, the place he kept getting called back to and eventually made his home. I never made it

while he was on this side of heaven, but I'm going this August to commemorate his one year anniversary and I know he'll be happy that I meet it at all. We don't get to choose when our loved ones go. I wish we got so much much more time, and I would do anything to hear his laugh again or see him grinned so wide and shake his head at me because apparently I'm the ridiculous one. But until then, I can't wait to see the mountains he loved so much, he decided to stay in them forever. To breathe the mountain air he adored, to feel his embrace from the sun shining down, and to catch his laugh in the breeze. And I know he's always with me wherever I go. Well, that's my trail tale. Thank you for taking the time to read grants and my story and for creating such an amazing community.

Enjoy the view. Be safe out there and tell your people you love them. Even if they're now just a blue butterfly stalking you on your trail run. XOXO Emily. And she attached a picture that I will post that we have permission to post of Grant taking in the views in Glacier National Park, just looking like he's absolutely thriving and just living, you know, heaven on earth in that time. So thank you for sharing a bit about him because. Like, I feel like I know him a little bit, you know. Yeah. It was really, really beautifully written. And based on what you said, is that you would be going to Glacier National Park for the one year anniversary, which is actually right now when we're recording. So we hope that you're having a really beautiful time and you're seeing the places that he loves so much. And we're just in Glacier. Yeah, we hope you're surrounded by blue butterflies and enjoy.

All the wildlife and incredible views there are out there. Yeah. So it's like kind of a like sad sweet one to end on. But I guess if you are an outsider, I'm taking my next, my last story that we share like on those subscriber platforms is I probably did this intentionally. It's titled, I'm not interesting enough to be abducted by aliens. So we're speaking straight to your heart. And mine is Kaibab, Plateau, Crypted, or something more elusive. Okay, so we're on a cryptid theme if you're an outsider.

Yeah. Cool. Well, thank you everyone for writing in your stories. We kind of got right into it in the beginning of this. But yeah, if you have your own to share about anything and everything, outdoor related is like kind of preferred, but not necessary. You can send them in what? I said we just want to know your stories. Yeah, we're nosy. Yeah. We know, we want to know it all. Yeah, we have a form on our website at npaddpodcast.com. You can submit a tale there. It'll come into our inbox and we'll go through it. And yeah, thanks for being here. Yeah. Until next time, enjoy the view. By 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 npaddepodcast.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. Visit progressive.com and see if you can enjoy a little cash back. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates.

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