National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 78

Episode Date: October 9, 2025

Today’s stories include traumatizing rites of passage, calls for help, wedding dress ghosts, missing friends and anonymous letters. Outsiders Only bonus stories available for Patreon and Apple Subscribers!For 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!Ka'Chava: Go to https://kachava.com and use code NPAD for 15% off your next order.Relief Band: For 20% off your order, head to Reliefband.com and use code NPAD. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Hello everyone and welcome back to Trail Tales. We're so happy you're here and thank you for writing in all your Trail Tales. This is officially spooky season. And this is officially the third time we've tried to record this. So I don't know if this episode is haunted. Yeah. Like legitimately this is the third time between our like human error and technical issues. It's been a long time.

This better be the best trail tales we've ever done. It will be. Or the most haunted one or the other. I don't know. Remember that one lot? Like was it last year that there was like a cursed trail tale that people yeah were upset about because once they listened to it, bad things happened to them? I remember you read it and I was like, I don't want to hear it.

I feel like this is bad. Yeah, nothing bad happened to me. Well, maybe. I don't know. I take that back. Maybe it did. But we're trying not to curse anybody. We're just trying to scare you.

So do you want to go first? I do. Mine is titled Small Town Legends, Annie Bangs. Hey, ladies. First of all, I love the podcast and everything about it. I love listening to you guys each week. Keep up the good work. While back on Trail Tales, you asked for some small town legends, so here we go. Have you ever heard of Annie Bangs?

Here is what the U.S. Forest Service has to say about her. You can sometimes hear howling in the Fish Lake National Forest. Wolves, coyotes, creatures of the night all resides on our lands. But sometimes, on the darkest and quietest nights, you may hear a howl. One that is neither wolf nor human. An unnatural cry from the depths of the forest. Is it an animal? Is it human? Is it human? Is it the ghost of Annie Bangs. Annie Bangs is one of many ghosts said to haunt central Utah, and she is said to dwell right here in the Fish Lake National Forest. Sightings and stories of her come from in and around the gooseberry campground. Legend says Annie Bangs was abandoned more than 100 years ago.

Some say her parents were killed in a snowstorm, and her cries attracted the wolves. Some say Annie fell out of the back of their covered wagon unnoticed, and by the time her parents turned back, it was too late. may never know the truth of how Annie came to be alone in the wild, but we do know that she was recovered by wolves and taken in as one of them, learning their ways of survival, robbed of the normal life of a young girl. Raised by wolves and taught to survive, Annie became fierce and wild. She turned her anger from having been abandoned and raised into the wild into an unnatural ability to survive. Is she still alive? Stalking the backwoods of fish lake? Or does her ghost live on,

haunting a world to which she never belonged, where she never got to be a child. Perhaps this is why she loves the sound of children. When children enter the campground, Annie approaches and watches, longing for the childhood she missed, angry that her own childhood was stolen, and she was left to grow up in the wild with the wolves. So if you're brave enough to venture to Gooseberry this fall, you just might catch a glimpse of a wolf woman in red, or hear a howl that isn't quite human, isn't quite wolf and you'll know you're being stalked by the ghost of Annie Bangs. She has been known to snitch

children from the campground, so be warned. I honestly have no idea if there's any truth in this, or if some Forest Service Rangers just thought it would be a great story to pass down, but this is the legend I grew up with and literally thousands of children in our area. We do a third grade field trip every year to visit the Gooseberry campground. And while the daytime stuff is very educational. It gets pretty creepy in the evening, especially for third graders. High school kids dress up as Annie Bangs and run through the campground terrorizing the kids. I will include a picture from the Forest Service page. It definitely makes for fun slash crazy evening. They have been doing this field trip since the 80s. Up until 2020, the third graders would spend the night at the

cabins and hear Annie Bangs roaming the campground all night long. I remember my third grade year and my sleeping bag wondering if I would make it to the next morning. Now it's just a day trip with the legend of Annie Bangs being told right as it gets dark. The kids are terrified as Annie runs through the campground. Then they load everyone up and send them home. I will have my own third grader this year and I'm looking forward to hearing the legend again in a few weeks. If you're ever in central Utah, you will definitely have to visit the Gooseberry campground and see if you can spot Annie Bangs. There are many beautiful views here, but definitely watch your back. Brittany. I love that teenage kids get the kind of like this. I feel like the, okay, so how old are you in

third grade? Third grade, I think you are seven or eight. Okay. That feels like a good time to really get some fear instilled into you. Like that's like a character building time, you know? And like for teenagers, the opportunity to scare the crap out of young kids is probably like something that a lot of people would up for. Yeah, it's because it's full circle. It's a full circle moment. In third grade, you were traumatized. Now it's your turn to do the traumatizing. And it's fun and it's tradition. When I was in high school, there was like this kid that I had a crush on and he was working at one of our local parks in town. They had a bunch of cabin or they do have a bunch of cabins and they host summer camps, day summer camps and like a week overnight ones. And in the fall, when they don't host camps,

they turn it into like an interactive haunted house type of thing. Fun. And when I was in high school, one of the kids I had a crush on was working as like one of the people who scare. What are the haunted house worker type of thing? And it's for children. Like it's designed to be for younger kids. So it's not super intense. Like you would go as an adult to, do you remember Witch's Woods growing up?

I think it was in Nashua or something. And it's like a huge haunted house. thing for like, like I would be scared to go right now, I think. I remember the one that's always in Litchfield. It's, um, I don't remember the name of it, but it's a big haunted house that they do. And there's paid people who jump out and scare you and walk through. And no one touches you, but they scare you. Yeah. So this one at this park was meant to be more like gentle. I think. But yeah. This guy got into character and I'm like I, because I went when he was like getting ready and like everybody was getting ready to set up for the night. And I'm like, you're taking this a little

far. And like, these kids are like probably still pee their pants at night. You know, like, it's like a gentle haunting, not full out, scary. Yeah, I'm like, I think you're in the wrong place. Like maybe you should go somewhere else. But yeah, I think it's, that's a fun tradition to have. And even though it's been kind of downgraded to just at night and they still go home. Yeah. Like to hear that and then have to stay in camp. Like that's, let's bring that back. That's brave. Yeah, let's bring trauma back. I do remember when you were just talking about haunted houses, I have a vivid memory of around Halloween time. My dad took me and two of my friends at the time to a haunted house nearby.

And to this day, I feel so bad for her name was Kayla. Kayla, if you're listening, again, we're sorry that this happened to you. But we went to a haunted house. We all agreed to it, thought it would be fun. And she was so scared. I remember we walked in the door and the first thing that jumped out at you. And this was, again, it was supposed to, same thing as what you were describing. It's supposed to be a family activity, fun for kids.

So I remember the first thing that popped out at us was a giant frog. And something about this frog scared her so much that she burst into tears and my dad had to carry her through the entire haunted house. Was it a person dressed as a frog? Or like just like a big, oh, okay. It was a person dressed as a frog that jumped out at us. And she was older than me. So I was, I want to say like 10 and she was like 13 or something like that. And yeah, I'll always, I sometimes I wonder if she has a fear of frogs now because of that day.

I would, I mean, that's like a formative experience and like one that. Yeah. I mean now as an adult you're probably like, oh, I can recognize what that was. but I don't know, the damage might be done. Yeah, we were in a spooky haunted house. They had all the fake spider webs everywhere. It was dark. They had all these, like, creepy candlelights.

And no one touched you or anything. And then if you said you were scared, they would be like, oh, it's okay. And they would, like, jump out of character for you. So they were really good. But this frog, they did her in. Did her in, yeah. Right from the get-go. It was scared.

I jumped. It scared me. You walked right in the door in this giant frog in, like, like laterhosen's jumped out at you and you're like what the do you like haunted houses? No, I'm not into, I would prefer actually, which is weird me saying this, I would prefer going into an actual haunted house versus going into a place that is set up as a haunted house. I don't like jump scares. Same.

Yeah. It's just I don't want to be, I don't want to be actually scared. Being spooked and hearing like creepy history is interesting. but to be actually physically scared and having people jump out at you, I'm just not not into. Yeah. There's something about just knowing you're about to enter an experience where you are going to be scared and you know things are going to jump out at you and you know you're going to be frightened for like an hour straight.

You're just going in tensed up and just you know you're in for it. Yeah. And that anticipation is just something I don't enjoy. So I would agree. Also, speaking of frogs, I lingered on a ad. for too long. You know, like, how your algorithm gets to know you. If you, like, just pause and look at something for too long. They're like, oh, you looked at this toaster. You must be in love with toasters. Here's your entire algorithm of all the toasters. Seven weeks. Do you want a toaster? Well, this happened to me with a shirt that says milf. And then it says, man, I love frogs. And they're just frogs on the word. Are they going to get you? Are you going to buy it? I think they might because it's been a long time now. It's kind of a cool looking at it for a long time if it keeps us coming back.

Like, there it is again. Okay, moving on. 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. My first story is not spooky, surprise, but it is titled Call Mom if you're bitten by a snake. Hi, thank y'all so much for taking the time to read this. I've been listening to y'all since almost the beginning. Your podcast has really renewed my love of the outdoors and adventures. especially finding strength to do so alone.

I've been training for a backpacking trip in a few months, so I've been trying to walk around more. Well, I had a trip from Texas back to Colorado and decided I would camp at Lake Meredith National Recreation Area halfway through because it was free and had warm showers. It was stunning, and I got in early, so I decided I would go for a hike since I hadn't done my walking in a few days.

I downloaded a few of your podcasts, as I've started doing before my solo hikes, and hit the 4.5 mile trail, not really knowing where I was going other than on an adventure. It was beautiful and I had never really done canyon hiking before, but I was enjoying myself and happy that I was able to hike the Furch Fortress Trail to Meredith Way, a moderate hike with relative ease. About two miles in though, I felt a sharp pain in my left leg.

Now, I felt this pain before. In 2014, I was working at a summer camp. At about 10 p.m., I was taking my campers back to the cabin when suddenly my foot was in sharp pain, like two wasps stinging me, but the pain never leaving. I screamed, snake, and all the 10-year-old girls ran back to my co-counselor. However, my co-counselor didn't realize I had been bit and ordered us to keep walking. I limped back to our cabin a quarter of a mile way and broke down crying outside where finally my co-counselor realized what had happened and called our camp nurse. The camp nurse, though, didn't know what to do and assumed it was a gardener

snake, not a copperhead, water moccasin, or rattlesnake. I was sent. I was sent to bed with, if you feel sick, call me. Well, I was anxious, so I called my dad. He grogly answered his phone to his sobbing 16-year-old. Have you told the nurse? Yeah. Have you called mom? No, she doesn't have cell service at Girl Scout camp. Do you need me to come up there? Uh, no. And that was that. My dad hangs up and goes back to bed. I was still super anxious, so I called the next best people. My friends at the barn at Girl Scout camp were the only cell services. They managed to put me on speaker phone up to a walkie-talkie so I could talk to my mom who then calmed me down. The next day, my foot was swollen three sizes and up to my knee. The 10-year-olds had to help me to the bathroom because I couldn't walk. Still, I had breakfast and went

on a four-hour canoe trip. What is happening here? Is nobody concerned? Why is no one helping you? The 10-year-old girls are like, do you need a hand to go to breakfast? It's like, no, I nearly can't hospital. Yeah, this is a severe. I mean, this is clearly a venomous snake bite. It wasn't until lunch that I started to feel sick. I was taken to the hospital where they did blood tests and sure enough, there was venom. Our conclusion is I was bit by a copperhead, so I was only given antibiotics and in order to stay off my foot for two weeks. Well, back to present day, and I know that this is bad. Outside this area in Amarillo, there is only one snake that could have bit my calf like this, a rattlesnake, and I'm two miles into a hike with no cell service. I know if I hike back a mile,

I will have cell coverage, but my leg is in so much pain at this point. My next best option is to scream. There are houses on top of the canyon walls and campgrounds, so someone has to hear. It takes only five minutes before someone calls back to me, and I am fortunate. Park Rangers arrived 15 minutes later with a stretcher and ran me out of the canyon. As soon as I was in the ambulance, guess who I call? My dad. Now I call him. because my mom is in Belgium and is probably asleep. Hello? I got bit by a snake. Do you need help? I'm in an ambulance. Have you called your mom? No, she's asleep in camping too. Do you need me to come up there? No, that's seven hours. I think I'll be okay. And what does he do? He hangs up and goes right back to

sleep while I am still actively crying. Come on, dad. So I call my mom anyways. She doesn't pick up. I call her friend she's with who wakes up my mom and my mom stays on the phone with me all the way to the hospital, making sure I'm okay. I received proper care this time, some anti-venom, and a day later, I'm in my car again, driving the last five hours back to Colorado. So the lesson here, call your mom first if you are in an emergency. I make jokes already being the middle child and how my dad reacted before, but this only solidifies it. Now I will have two tattoos of just dots where I've been bitten by snakes. That's so clever. I love that.

I hope you enjoyed and keep on being amazing. Love Carrie from Colorado Springs. Wow. Okay. Doesn't look by a venomous snake twice. Dad doesn't care two times in a row. Third time's the charm. It's like, so are you all good or what?

It's like, and you're calling me because it seems like you got it handled. We advocate for dads a lot on the show. Please make us look good doing that. We love dads. Just please step it up. Yeah. Man I love dads. M-I-L-D.

That's what my shirt should say. It doesn't... Man I love frogs. It doesn't have the same ring as man I love frogs. That's true. I tried. All right, my next story is titled Local Stories from Some Mexican NPAD. Dear Cassie and Danielle, I have been a listener of your podcast for a while and I never thought I had enough stories to tell you about to write an email.

Until I told my brother about the show and he immediately said I should write and tell you about the legends that surround the very national park we live two blocks away from. Shout out to Alfredo. We live in southern Mexico City at the bottom, 2,700 meters above 7,000. sea level of the Ajuco Mountains, which form a natural border separating Mexico City from surrounding states. The top of the mountains, just six kilometers away, reaches shy 3,900 meters above sea level. So for my neighborhood, every block you walk is a hill you hike. This includes my favorite neighbor, the tiniest national park in all of Mexico. The Parque National Fuentes Brontantes. With only eight hectares, this park is mainly composed of a very steep ravine carved in

volcanic stone that splits the area in two, at the bottom of which run natural springs that are one of the last in the city. This pocket national park is surrounded by sprawl that ends abruptly only a couple kilometers away when the mountain gets steeper. A couple of lakes and ponds connected by the streams that run across the ravine complete the idyllic landscape until its collision with the city and their intubation. Home to hundreds of endemic species of plants, animals and such, It is a beloved sanctuary for my community and a region becoming increasingly famous for the growing gentrification it faces. The park is famously inhabited by many species that now wander into the neighboring communities, including cackomxtiles. What are those?

Which, oh, they explain it right after. Which are a southern cousin of the raccoon and have very similar behaviors. These nocturnal neighbors have given me more scares than I can count, but are always a delight to catch a glimpse of. However, everything I just told you are facts and not legends, so let's not stir from the topic. At the bottom of Fuentes Brontes lies a chapel built in 1522, which for the history savvy is one year after the conquest and fall of Mexico. God, you're really testing my ability to pronounce things. You want to do an immersion class. Here you are.

Of Mexico, ten o'tchitlan. Sure. My neighborhood, Tala. was a neighboring city to the Mexico capital, so it didn't face the same catastrophe, but was quickly conquered and colonized. Its temples famously torn apart to erase their culture and build Catholic temples asap, such as this chapel, where I was baptized. The area was significant to both indigenous and colonizer people because of the springs, thus its quick occupation. Maybe because of the quick brutality they suffered, maybe because of the wildlife that still

inhabits its ravines. I personally blame the eerie squeaks of the cacobes, of the cacobes. mixel at night. There are multiple stories surrounding the ravines, most of them involving the devil. It is said that people have been hearing screams and crying from the bottom of the ravines for centuries, so much so that at some point of the 1920s, it was exercised, and the devil came to face the priest who did it. Other stories from the colonial period mentioned sightings of the devil around the springs, and some people, even to this day, claim the devil sometimes materializes near a large monolithic stone at the center of the park, where offerings and what seems to be remains of Santa Maria are often cited too. The only scares I've ever experienced near the park had been due to

the cacomixels. They sound like people when they run on your roof and do to other humans. Since the park is very daunting and dangerous at night, given that the ravines are kept in the dark to respect the nocturnal wildlife, I may never have my own tales of otherworldly noises coming from the bottom, but I will protect its inhabitants with my life. My brother has has given me permission to share some of his stories. These include the times in primary school where he and his friends cited flying spheres above them, which have been cited by multiple people around these mountains years before drones became a thing. These have never presented any harm, and we also suspect it has to do with a nearby military academy. My brother has spent his entire

life climbing the mountains by bike, and while he has been through mountain ranges all over Mexico, nothing has ever spooked him as much as the time he ran into a horse with evident and traumatic signs of cattle mutilation at the top of one of the Ajusco hills. Witchcraft and Santoria are common in rural Mexico and we know best to stay clear from them. But sightings like the horse make us realize that there are phenomena native to the forests and hills that go beyond what we city folk understand. These hills are also home to legends and stories of Nawal sightings, witches, ghosts, and the staples of every mountain. kept alive by the surviving Pueblo's originarios that dedicated themselves to protect all this is part of the forest, the hills, the water, the animals, the plants, and all else. As it is the case with national parks in the U.S., the hills in Mexico are perfect, unapproachable

playgrounds for organized crime, which has slowly started giving us far more terrifying reasons to be careful when we visit. My dad comes from a very small town at the bottom of Zincotankat volcano in a nearby state, and he and my uncles have far wilder ancidotes than these. But I'll save those for another email. Hoping to hear your thoughts on my region's stories, I wish you all the best and congrats on your magnificent podcast. Okay, my thoughts are I don't do devil stuff.

I don't do exorcism devil things. I like being immersed in spooky stuff, like you said earlier, with like true hauntings versus like an actual fabricated haunted house. Yeah. But anytime there's. anything to do with, and I don't know why that is maybe like an upbringing thing. To this day, I think the scariest movie ever made is The Exorcist, like the original Exorcist. So I don't, I don't do that stuff. Yeah. I don't mess with that either. And also dark magic things that kind of

sound like are in this region. I also do not want to participate in that either. But it sounds like there's some stuff going on. No, it feels like there's a lot of different types of things going on between the actual human-based scary things that you mentioned and crime and, you know, just creepy history with the devil and the 15-20, what was it, 1522 chapel or whatever and I don't know. And then potential UFO stuff, but then there's also the military operating around. I'm sure it's pretty and it's great. And you made it sound so lovely and nice in the beginning. And then you scared me.

Yeah, so I don't know. We're not going is our thoughts. But you enjoy it for us. Okay. My next story is titled, My Dad Got Haunted by a Wedding Dress Ghost. Hi, I'm a longtime listener who talks about you so much that all my friends know about your podcast, but I don't think any have actually listened yet.

Just wait till they get stuck on a road trip with me one of these days. I'll have them listening to NPA on the way there and tooth and claw on my way home. Well, maybe they'll listen now that your story is featured on the show. That's true. They must listen, at least to this next four minutes or so. A listen is a listen. Anyways, I have a family lore story that involves my dad and uncle getting haunted, so I wanted to get it in early enough if you have a spooky trail tales planned for spooky season.

Look at that. You did it. This story popped into my head after hearing the trail tale where the girl had some old woman in a rocking chair in the corner of her room, get up and touch her. It triggered a story of my mind about my dad who had told me about being touched by a ghost. I called my dad before writing this just to clarify that I had the story straight. My dad and his brother grew up in a haunted house in Whale Center, New York. It's still standing today and when you drive by it, you can just tell it's haunted. It gives off the vibes.

And incredibly, they lived there for. years. This story happened when they were young, but they grew up in that house and got girlfriends who are now my mom and on and have their own scary stories from that place. For example, the furnace being turned up to 100 degrees and pictures turned around so they faced the wall every morning was a regular occurrence. Oh. The heat, I wouldn't mind. I like a little toasty environment. It's usually the opposite. Usually it's cold. Yeah. They're like, we're going to broil you and you can't look at any photos that you like. Dishes would be thrown around and shattered in the middle of the night,

but then they would go looking and nothing would be out of place. All right, so here's the story. My dad, who was about five and his brother, who was about seven, shared a bedroom. Hanging in their bedroom behind the door was a wedding dress. I don't know whose dress it was. It may have been their moms after recently getting married or an aunt's. Who knows, but it was hanging in their room. One night, my dad woke up and to his horror saw a ghost-like figure coming out of the wedding dress.

He has said before when retelling this story that he thought it was his great-aunt or grandmother. So maybe the dress belonged to whoever was coming out of it. The figure went over to my dad, and I have literal goosebumps as I'm typing this, but guys, it went over to my dad, put its arms under him, and, in all caps, picked him up. He was not touching the bed. He was levitating with a ghost holding him, scooped up over his bed. What? Unable to scream because he was dead terrified, he reached for his brother, who was wide awake, staring at him in the air.

The ghost held him up for just a few seconds, then gently put him down, went back into the dress, and life went on. They didn't say a word to each other about that night. What do you say? There's nothing to say. It's like, we both are away. You know what. just happened right? You saw that. No one's going to believe it. Just go back to bed. A story I heard once

from when they were older and their girlfriends were around was that someone knocked on the door and said they needed help. It was a snowstorm and their car was in a ditch out front. I don't know the full story, but when they went out to help, there was no car in the ditch or any sign that a car had even been in a ditch. Another story is about my mom getting a puppy. It would sit at the bottom of the stairs whining and looking up. One day they came home to, oh my God, you didn't warn me. One day they came home to find it dead at the bottom of the stairs with nothing visibly wrong with it. I don't think they had it for longer than a week. It's like, okay, that feels like a medical issue, but well, okay. I know that the story of my dad being held in the air can sound like a sleep paralysis

dream. My dad wasn't even sure if it was real or a dream. I guess that's why he had never brought it up before. But along with all the other haunted stuff that has happened in the house, I think it's just one of those super haunted places where super haunted things happen. So my dad and his brother never spoke about that night, ever. But then 25 years later, while sitting around the table at Thanksgiving dinner, everyone began sharing scary stories about the house they used to live in. My dad started telling the family about one night when he was a kid, there was a wedding dress on the back of the door, and my uncle cut in and finished this story. So it was confirmed that, this wasn't a sleep paralysis dream. My dad got haunted to the max. Grace. That would be me as a ghost.

bury me in my reception dress so I can come back and still show everyone what it looked like. It's like you think that I'm ever going to not talk about this because would you look at it? Would you look at it? For all of eternity. Please look at me in the stress. I'm never going to let you forget because I'm going to pick you up out of your bed. Yeah, I, there are a couple things, like the thing, the car in the ditch thing, I need more information. Like, did the person disappear? Or like, what happened with that? You know, like, clearly there was a person asking for help. Yeah. So that seems where the puppy, I mean, we've seen animals die suddenly before for other reasons other than being haunted. So just being a devil's advocate here, just writing those two off. The other things about like the pictures being turned around and things crashing around allegedly. and then you go and look and there's nothing amiss. And clearly that thing about being picked up, there's something going on in there. The house is clearly haunted. Yeah.

But some of them may be able to be explained. But I think others, like being picked up by a wedding ghost is, it's just haunted. That's it. You know, I would like to think that we would talk about something like that. But something like that kind of did happen and you didn't tell me about it until months later. When I was like haunted in Yosemite. I, in Yosemite. You did not tell me.

Oh, yeah. Didn't I tell you the like the next day? No. I don't think so. I thought I told you like very, I thought I told you the next morning. Oh, maybe you did. Yeah. Okay.

But well, you didn't tell me that. You just saw me come out of me and have my hair over my face like of the the exorcist. Yeah, the ring. Yeah. And then you're like, I'm going back to bed. I'm like, that's none of my business. I was actively getting possessed or haunted or something, and you literally rolled over and went back to sleep.

And you're like, I'll talk to her about it later. For context, if people haven't heard this on other episodes before, we haven't talked about it in a while. But we were staying in a year in Yosemite. And I just suddenly woke up in the middle of the night and I thought, check on Danielle, someone's like looking at her or someone. Like, something in my head was like, check on Danielle, someone's watching her. and I turned around and because I was rolled over the opposite direction and I roll back over and it was pretty dark so I couldn't really see anything. I mean, it was really dark. It was the middle of the night. There's no lights in there. And I'm like squinting my eyes because I swear I see her sitting at the end of her bed,

just sitting there. And I didn't want to say anything because I'm like, am I interrupted? Like, what is she doing? And she was just sitting there like her hair over her face. And then I look and I see her in her bed sleeping like her pillow. She's faced the other direction. And so I'm just sitting there, like, no, she's definitely sitting there. But she's also in her bed. And I'm like, I don't know. Maybe I'm just seeing things. And I just roll back over and went to bed. I was like, she's fine. Which is so messed up, first of all. I was detaching from myself. I don't know. What if I interrupted and you never woke up and you were just detached forever? Yeah. I guess maybe you did me a favor or a disservice. I'm not really sure. But that was also when I was like in the thick of going through like really

awful things. So like I don't know if like my spirit was just like not okay. Yeah. I mean from what I saw it wasn't a happy like you hair over like you were kind of like slouched down and you were just sitting there at the end of your bed. I wouldn't like describe it as like happy. Yeah. Yeah. I don't know. Okay. Well, I've been haunted and we don't talk about it enough. Yeah. But let's move on. Were you haunted though or like what is it astro projecting? Astral projecting. I feel like if I wanted to astral project, I would be doing something other than slouching at the end of my bed, looking in despair. Like, I feel like I'd want to go somewhere fun.

I know you were going through it. Maybe you were just, maybe it was your first time. You hadn't done it before. That's as far as you got. I don't know what to do. So I'm just going to sit here and cry, I guess. If anything, it speaks to your resilience. You're like so unfaced.

Yeah. I can't be. I'm not getting involved. It's like I'm trying to sleep here. Yeah. We have things to do tomorrow. We have a busy day tomorrow. Yeah, I got to get my beauty rest.

I wasn't concerned for your safety. When I woke up, I was like something is something's after Danielle was like my first thought or something's looking at it. There was something with you and I immediately like turned. And then you were sleeping maybe or sitting at the end of your bed and it's like, she's okay. She's going through something. She's going through it.

And we all know that. It felt like I was, it almost felt like I was pride. like, oh, I shouldn't, this is private. And I just like roll back over. Whatever you have to tell yourself, Cassie. Yeah. You made it. It's just all that mattered.

Yeah. Okay, my story is titled Building Trails and Missing a Friend. But I do want to give a little bit of a warning for listeners that this story does include speaking about suicide. And if you are not in a place to hear that, you can skip on over. But if you are, it is a really beautiful, relatable story. So let's jump into it. My name is Jay, she hurt, and the last three years of my life have been a whirlwind. I've spent so much time reliving moments, the good and the bad.

I was listening to the podcast with my eight-month-old crawling around my feet. I realized that maybe it's time to share. I've heard so many stories of people a lot like me. Thanks for giving us the platform. The summer of 2022 was the best summer of my adult life. I had just graduated college and my boyfriend B. And I signed up as crew leaders for a conservation corps in Wyoming, our home state. We built trails, restored historical landmarks, built wildlife-friendly fences, and lived outside.

We worked in Devil's Tower National Monument, Grand Teton National Park, Arapaho Ranch, and Medicine Bow National Forest. There were ghosts, aliens, wild animals, but those are stories for another time. That summer was about more than just work. It was the first time I felt truly confident as a woman in the outdoor industry. The work itself isn't hard, but being accepted was, in a space that is overwhelmingly male, I had found my footing. The people I met were truly amazing. The season ended and I cried saying goodbye. Afterward, B and I set out on a cross-country road trip to the outer banks. On a quiet beach at sunset, he proposed. Yes, it was cheesy, but for a landlock girl from Wyoming, it was unreal.

We celebrated by snapping a picture of my ring in front of the Mothman statue in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. We're both cryptid fans. Of course, we have those stories too. Wyoming is spooky. Once again, stories for another time. Anyway, life was unfolding in the most perfect way. Back in Wyoming, I lined up another job with a conservation corps while B started working at a ski hill. Our plan was to return for another summer season in Wyoming, but when B got an opportunity in Alaska, we dropped everything and moved north. It was bittersweet. We got married in the courthouse so we could live in government housing together. Neither of us ever wanted a big wedding anyway. Alaska, though beautiful, wasn't what we dreamed it would be.

be. Without a car, we were stuck with view of Denali National Park only managing to visit once. We found ourselves homesick for the wide open spaces of the west. Still, I found purpose working for Liz, a 23-year-old woman starting a compost facility in Fairbanks. But my heart longed for big open skies and dusty trails. When I was offered a trail crew supervisory position in Utah, I jumped on it. I rushed from Alaska to Wyoming to Utah in the span of two weeks ready to start fresh. I arrived brimming with confidence, but instead of acceptance, I was met with misogyny, hostility, and manipulation of my first narcissist. Slowly, I began to feel lost in the outdoor industry.

It was no longer my safe space. One day, my boss, the narcissist, degraded me in front of everyone over how I organized the tools. He made cutting remarks about my abilities and trail building, conveniently forgetting I had spent the last summer doing just that. It wasn't just about the tools or trails. It was about undermining my authority as a woman leader. Then he put me aside and told me how unprofessional it was for me as a leader to make friends with crew members.

He saw I was getting along with a couple of the crew members my age. I know now that it was just another way to isolate me, but at the time it impacted me. I started questioning myself. Then R. walked up to me. He could see I was upset about something. So what's your story? he asked. I didn't want to answer at first, but R wasn't the type of person. you could ignore. He was warm, goofy, always cracking jokes. He had wholesome dreams, wanted to study

sustainable horticulture in Costa Rica. The campsite we were at was covered in petrified wood and geodes. After sharing my story, I found a geode, split it in half and gave him a piece. Ar looked at me and said, Now you'll look at this rock and be like, where's that guy now? I've since lost the geode, but I do still wonder where R is now. R kept people laughing, barking at tourists who made nasty comments when walking by, literally barking, fake food. fighting with trees, bugs, and anything really, talking in a baby voice in serious situations, just generally pulling us out of our heads when things got heavy. The only time his guard slipped was when he'd been drinking.

You could see something weighing on him, but no one could really tell what. And then one morning, we were getting ready for an assignment and R wasn't there. At first we joked. Classic, he probably overslept, but he had texted his location the night before, told someone, if I'm not there, come pick me up. So they did, and he was gone. The night before, he texted me a place he thought I'd like. I stupidly responded with a few word answers.

I was scared to make friends because it was deemed unprofessional. Oh, how I wish I had told him to meet me there. Our left little pieces of himself everywhere. An apology note to a friend's van, lots of hugs and goodbyes, whispered thank you's text, poems. 21 of us, all these young adults who left our regular lives behind to take a chance on Utah, suddenly lost a friend to suicide. None of us were prepared, and then we had to keep working. That's the part nobody tells you. There's no pause button.

We worked in Zion National Park. I remember standing there absolutely floored by the beauty, these towering red cliffs and canyons, yet I was still so sad. Most of the other crews were working in Bryce Canyon National Park at the time. Everyone was surrounded by beauty and couldn't enjoy it. I remember wishing we hadn't sent everyone back to work so soon. But at the same time, I'm glad we got to be. be in the outdoors, even if we weren't ready for joy just yet. After R died, nothing felt the same.

I quit my job because I couldn't stand being around my boss anymore. I was constantly shaking with anxiety whenever he was near. He made me feel so small, so stupid that even the things I used to dream about, like starting an office garden or building a compost bin, remember I had worked for the compost company, suddenly felt ridiculous. He had wormed his way into my confidence and convinced me I wasn't capable of anything. On top of that, that, I was still grieving. B and I decided I should try working for the Forest Service, so I signed on with the Dixie National Forest. Not long after, I found out I was pregnant. So there I was, trail building, learning to ride a four-wheeler, throwing up every day, and growing a human at the same

time. I love Dixie, but I really, really hated being pregnant. My confidence was already wrecked from my last job, and now pregnancy seemed to make the misogyny even louder. Suddenly, I wasn't a leader or even a worker, I was a burden. People looked at me like I didn't belong outside and I started to believe it. When trail season ended, I was officially jobless. My next big assignment was giving birth. After 24 hours of labor, I brought a beautiful nine-pound boy into the world, AJ. Two weeks later, we went to Collop Canyon, me, B, and Tiny Baby AJ under the giant red cliffs. I was still bleeding, sore, exhausted, but there was something about standing in that canyon with him that felt like a piece of myself clicking back into place. Eventually, B got a job back in Wyoming, so we packed up

and drove 10 hours with a colic newborn. Let me just say, not for the week, but we made it. Now I'm semi-adjusted to this new life. I'm still grieving. R and the outdoors woman I thought I was going to be, but I also just bought my first pair of hiking boots since everything happened. I'm thinking about volunteering for a local trail building crew. I think of R often. I'm sure we all do. I hope he's somewhere getting all the answers he needs. And it has to be pretty with a soul like his. And I think of AJ, my sweet boy, who spends most of his days outside. I can't say I've completely found my way back to the outdoors yet, but I'm trying. I carry the younger version of myself too, the one who led trail cruise in Wyoming, who felt unstoppable, who belonged. And maybe that's the most feminist thing of all,

claiming space in an industry, in a landscape, in a life that doesn't always welcome you, standing in it anyway. So that's my long yet shortened story of the last few years of my life. Anyone who knows me would be able to guess who I am, but for the sake of privacy, I abbreviated all of our names. Thanks for listening and thanks for being my favorite podcast to distract from this wildlife, Jay. Oh, Jay, you are capable as hell, I think, and resilient and, of course, faced challenges that I think, you know, from our personal. position, we can be like, you belong and you deserve it. And like, you know, but we're not living your experience. And it's so much harder in practice to actually stand your ground and stick up to

people that are intimidating and who are narcissists. And it's difficult and scary, especially when you're, you feel like you're on your own is one of the only or few women. But you're doing the damn thing. And you should be proud. Yeah, and this sounds really cheesy, and I know people say it all the time, but people who are degrading and hurtful and narcissistic are usually very deeply unhappy with themselves. Don't let someone else like that ruin. I know it's hard and it definitely makes an impact, but don't let them change who you are and who you know you are because it's not worth it. And they are deeply sad and unhappy in their own life somehow. and they've taken it out on you and tried to put that energy into you. So don't let that happen. And you're not alone. A lot of people experience this and sharing your story is, I think, really helpful for other people who are experiencing the same thing.

I mean, reading your story, I felt a lot of similarities in Danielle and I's work experience. I mean, we had a very similar. We had a boss that was really awful. And we had, we also unfortunately had to deal with someone who had completed suicide that we worked closely with. That was really upsetting and right back to work. Right back to work. I mean, we experienced a lot of parallels to you. So our heart goes out to you and everything that you had to deal with and went through.

It's tough. Life is tough. And I think that cheesy saying that you were like describing is the hurt people, hurt people. Yeah. And I mean, it's true. It is true. It is true. Yeah. So all you can do is give yourself a little grace. You're doing the best you can. Yes. Okay. So that was heavy. But let's, this might be a little lighter. And it's kind of different. Look at me. I'm putting my iPad away because I'm not reading a story that was sent in via email. I'm sending a story that was sent in via actual mail. I'm reading a story that was sent in via actual mail. right here. I know. And it's, there's a lot going on with this. Okay.

So for those of you that don't know, we do have a PO box. We, um, if you're part of our newsletter, it's included in there. Um, people send us really sweet and nice, um, things all the time, whether it's like art or little gifts or thank you letters and things like that. And it's all very lovely and nice. But this was sent in to our PO box and it has. And it has no return address. It is typed.

Like there's no actual handwriting on it. Like everything is typed out. And it's anonymous. Interesting. So it, there's a very like spooky air to this a little bit, especially given what the story is about. So it is titled and it's typed. It's not handwritten.

It's like, can't be traced. Yeah, can't be traced. Who has a typewriter? Still. I'm not saying it's what? I'm just saying it's. I don't know. I wrote it on typewriter.

Oh, I thought it was a typewriter. That's what I'm picturing, the spooky thing. I just pictured a typewriter. Also, maybe I pictured that because I was in a bookstore yesterday, and they were on a typewriter typing things out for the, they had informational cards around that were all on a typewriter. So I was listening to them type on a typewriter. So maybe that's where my brain went.

Bring back typewriters. Yeah. Who needs backspace? Definitely. Not us. We don't mess up ever. Not a single time. We wouldn't know anything about that. Okay, so this is titled the Blacksburg 708 incident. Everything you are going to read in the following passages is the absolute truth. These events occurred at the places and at the times recorded. We have nothing to gain and much to lose, which is why our identities are entrusted with very few. On Friday, June 15th, it's, Is this scary? I'm like, should I be reading this? I don't know what the story is, so I don't know. On Friday, June 15th, 2018, my son and I were in Blacksburg, Virginia for the weekend.

Instead of staying in a motel, we decided to enjoy the nearby National Forest. Having briefly visited earlier in the year, the encompassing mountains and forest were more than inviting. They were calling to be explored. Around 3 p.m., we checked in at the National Forest District Office on Business Route 460. The staff was exceptionally helpful. We are informed most of the forest was open for no trace left behind camping. No trace camping can be best described as take only pictures and memories and leave only footprints. Conditions are that you must be more than 200 feet from any established trail, road, and or stream, rivulet, or water course.

Anything you take in must be taken out, and any evidence of your having been there must be removed or mitigated. This is a program that should be followed in other locations. The staff suggested some sites that would seem promising. Upon leaving the district office, we went to a local store to secure some extra provisions. We then located what we thought was probably the best smorgasbord in the entire area. After committing the sin of gluttony, we made our way west on Route 460 in search of Route 708. After making a wrong turn onto Route 700, we eventually located Route 708. On this route, you pass by one home on the left side immediately after 12.

turning south off of Route 460. The road is washed out with some deep ruts on the right side, forcing you to veer onto the left side of the road. Fortunately, the traffic was light and caused no concern. The road makes a gentle rise and levels off for a view down into the forest on the left. The gravel kicked up by the tires and clinking of the bottom of the truck created a steady cadence as we passed by the treetops to the left and the route stands to the right. It was now about 6.30 p.m. and time was running short to find the ideal campsite.

After reviewing several possible locations, we were dismayed to find some locations where previous campers had never heard of no trace camping and one site in particular that smelled swampy. We backtracked about a quarter of a mile, climbing back up the road. We made a hard right turn and stopped to pull in off an area just before a hard left turn. Our truck was now facing towards Route 460. We located what we believed to be the presidential suite of campsites. It was on a slight rise with a hill to our left and right, but far enough away to be legal. No insects in the air, a stand of trees alive and healthy.

No dead branches to fall on us during the night. The night air would sink slowly during the darkness, keeping a fresh course flowing past our sight. The understory and the leaf mold were of the right consistency to provide the perfect cushion befitting the finest of royal mattresses. We packed our gear for a moonless night amongst a Silva cathedral. Upon reaching this presidential suite, we placed the tent door at the northeast to catch the morning sun for our wake-up call. The floor was almost level, but we had set the bed rolls where our feet faced the southeast towards the road and our heads northwest upslope for a natural sort of pillow. It had been a very long day and there would be no wishing on a star for us. That would have to wait for another time for us to see the Virginia night sky.

Although we brought a rocket stove, we passed on making the fire as neither of us were eager for a smore and the ground was a little. little dry. The sinking air was strumming an oak leaf lullaby as we turned in. Our heads hit the pillows at about 8 p.m. And I don't believe either of us saw 8.05. Wooop, screech, about a quarter past midnight, an unearthly scream and whoop bellowed from the hollow below us. Having been roused from our slumbers, we struggle to make sense of what we were hearing. It was my determination that the timber, torn and lack of Doppler shift, meant that the maker of this horrendous riot was both stationed. and facing towards us, although some distance away. We thought we had heard all that any forest in the eastern United States had to offer.

This noise, however, was not on any playlist from any woodland venue we had ever been to before. We paused for a few moments to gather our thoughts. We could hear coyotes far off in the distance and an owl somewhat closer by, and a rodents very near us scurrying to and fro amongst the following leaves. But then it happened again. whoops and screeches. The off-keyed capella was bellowing again. We tried to rationalize what manner of creation could have such a lung capacity

to reach us through a full canopy of leaves from so many yards of distance. We waited for another solo performance to get a better grip on what it was we were hearing, but the forest felt eerily silent, almost too silent. Hearing nothing ominous, we again focused on our rest. Hey, my son yelled, jarring my sleepy eyes wide open. completely unknowing what was happening. Immediately after he yelled, hey, the side of the tent, opposite of the door, pushed in with a pounce from the outside. He yelled, it's grabbing me, it's grabbing me. I put my arms around him to pull him towards me. The tent heaved over towards

the door. There was some sort of ruckus outside. One of our lamps and my glasses were hanging from the ceiling and both crashed to the ground. I scrambled around in the dark, found my glasses first, and then the lamp. The door of the tent was pushed towards the ground. I unzipped it, reached out, and grabbed the small pick we used to clear some leaf mold when we first set up camp. I clamored out of the tent and did a quick scan for an intruder. Arm locked and cocked with a pick in hand, ready to battle with any and all creatures that

dare attack my child. Seeing no attacker nearby, we looked at each other in disbelief. My son stated he sat up and yelled, hey, as loud as he could because he heard a stick or a branch break that was large enough that it had to have been broken by a very large walking creature. He was hoping to just scare off whatever it was. However, the sound of the breaking branch was from a distance of at minimum 100 feet. But then the pouncing on the tent happened immediately after he yelled, meaning that there were at least two ambulatory creatures.

We checked the time. It was 2.15 in the morning. We found our second lamp among the debris that had been our tent and campsite, and we checked our perimeter again. As I scanned the area with my headlamp, I turned and pointed the lamp down the slope towards the road and said, Look there. And there they were. Two green eyes reflecting back to me. They blinked and continued looking at me. Whatever was looking at me moved east while keeping its gazed fixed upon my lamp. Because the road was lower than our campsite, there was a little bluff about four to five feet high. What was looking at me was higher than that bluff, but by at least a foot or two. I watched it move for a few seconds,

and then it stopped its gaze and disappeared into the darkness. I saw no outline of the shape of the creature or where its accomplice went. We improvised the tent as a rucksack and went for the safety of our truck. After throwing our gear in the back of the truck, we high-tailed it up the road towards the highway, stopped near the connection with Route 460, and took an assessment of what just happened. We called home to tell my wife, she was understandably, completely upset, but I wanted to tell her in case something happened to us. We sat locked in the safety of our truck and took some notes of what our attacker could have been.

Our first thought was a bear. But there was no damage to the tent and a bear does not make a noise such as what we had heard before. Also, a bear would have to walk on its hind legs to look over the little bluff by the side of the road. Our second idea was perhaps a mountain lion. It could approach southly and if its claws are retracted, it could pounce on the tent without doing any damage. Cats do have green eyes, but do mountain lions travel in pairs? I'm not sure. Also, it would be too short to see on that road. Our third idea was a coyote. They do travel in packs, approach quietly, and most certainly pounce. But whatever pounce on the tent was strong enough to push over a 165 pound person who was sitting. Also, coyotes would be too short to see on that road.

We sat on the side of that road until daybreak, too afraid and confused to make any decision on where to go and what to do next. Around 7 a.m., we decided to return to the scene of our nighttime attack. and take a daylight assessment. We found no evidence of our attacker and we ensured that we did not leave anything behind in our hasty retreat. Receiving a fine for littering would just add insult to injury. The forest did not have that welcoming feeling as it had the day before. We felt as if we were being watched, not just by what had attacked us, but by the very fauna itself.

We contacted the sheriff's department and their conclusion was that we were pounced on by a mountain lion. I make no determination as to the identity of this creature, I leave that up to the reader and it just ends. What an interesting story. I, the thing that is tripping me up a little bit is when your son said it's grabbing me. It's grabbing me. Which makes me think that whatever it was had opposable thumbs. Or some dexterity to their, like it's not just like pinning you.

I feel like a, whether it be a bear or like a mountain line through the tent. Even a bear isn't going to grab. Like, you know, they have paws. Yeah, I think the language that he use is really what's like making this really creepy. And like, of course, first of all, my first thought is that this person is maybe ex-military because of the way that they're writing. Oh, okay. Just like checking perimeters and the way that they're, just the way that they're speaking, I feel. And like just how meticulous you are about like surveying the area and just like your observations and things.

If you're not ex-military, that's fine. It just, it makes me feel like this person is. Has some type of training. Has some sort of training and a healthy skepticism of I like clearly they're not like this was a big foot or this was some sort of mythical creature or otherworldly thing. They're like, I'm just talking. telling you what happened. It scared us and it was weird and we don't know what the hell happened. What do you think? So yeah, I think that, I don't know. I don't know. I think that something about the grabbing coupled with those strange screams and cries and whooping sound. Again, the way

they described the sounds as a whooping sound, a lot of people when they're talking about Bigfoot say that, like describe the calls in that particular way. Not just like, oh, they were yelling or it was some sort of call. It's like it was a whooping sound. That's so specific. Yeah. Big foot. It's not a coyote.

Let's just, that's off your list. Yeah. It's not a coyote. Also, if it's standing, that's another thing where it was next to the bluff that was four to five feet tall and it was taller than that. So what, six to seven feet immediately? Bigfoot. Case closed. Yeah. It's grabbing. It stands. It's whooping. It's moving quickly. Yeah. And also locking eyes and kind of like clocking you for a moment. Also. Yeah. I don't know.

I mean, worse scenario is that it's a really tall man. Right. Yeah. Which is also a possibility. But do you think a man would just jump on a tent and try and grab somebody through a tent? Maybe. Like someone with mental health. issues, maybe. Yeah, maybe. Yeah, now that I said that out loud, it doesn't feel that far-fetched, unfortunately. But my money is on Bigfoot and you had some sort of experience. So I'll just leave my opinion at that. Great. Well, thank you, everyone, for tuning in to this spooky trail tales edition. Welcome to Spooky Season. We're stoked to be here. And keep writing into us. If you have a story that you're thinking of, you can write to us, go on our website, NPA, D.P. podcast.com. We have a submission link right there and you can tell us your story and we'd love to read it on the podcast. And we will see you next week. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch you're

back. Bye. Oh, and we have two more for outsiders. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. I was because I turned off my iPad and I'm like, oh, well, that's that on that. We're done. No, we have two more if you're as a subscriber. where if you're on Patreon or Apple subscriptions, we have two more. Mine is titled, Dogs Can Be the Third Man Factor. And mine is titled The Flute Player. Well, now enjoy the view. And watch your back. But watch your back.

Oh, my God. I don't even know what I'm... Who are you? Where are we? I don't know. I'm scared. What is this? I told you this episode was cursed.

But watch you're back. 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.

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