National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 79

Episode Date: October 23, 2025

Today’s stories include haunted government housing, mystery hair, almost animal attacks, breaking the (leash) law, family trauma bonding and bad shipwreck vibes. 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!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 your first order!PAKA: Head to go.pakaapparel.com/NPAD and use code NPAD to grab your PAKA hoodie and free pair of alpaca crew socksSoul:  For 30% off your order, head to GetSoul.com and use code NPAD.Rocket Money: Use our link to get started saving. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Hello, everyone. Welcome back to National Park After Dark Trail Tales Edition. I did a little half and half today. What's that mean? It means that if I recall, because I also put this together a couple weeks ago, But if memory serves, your stories are all kind of spooky creepy vibe and mine are all animal vibe. Ah. So left me with the spooky creepy.

Yeah. It is. I mean, we are inching closer and closer to Halloween, which is exciting. Spooky season is coming to a close, which is kind of sad. Don't say that. It's here and it leaves. I mean, kind of like the foliage this year. The foliage this year up in New England is not service.

We had, I think last weekend, which we're recording this the first week of October, last weekend was peak season up here in Vermont, and now it's already starting to brown and fall, and there's not much left. I mean, there is still foliage up here, but in terms of color, there's not a lot left because everything's browning. Well, don't get me started because this is my first October here in almost 10 years, spending like a length of time here. Yeah. And the foliage is not what I remember at all. And I know there's different environmental reasons for that. But not even like, I don't think we've hit peak yet. It's probably here in Southern Maine, at least. It's probably right around the corner,

maybe another week max. There is still a lot of green here. But the colors are just not vibrant. Yeah. It's because of the drought that we've had. They were predicting it was going to be like this. But because we've had such a long drought, which is so true too. I mean, it downpored here a few days ago, but that was the first rain we had gotten in a long time. And there's no rain in the forecast, which is different for Vermont just because it rains here all the time usually. And it's just been really, really sunny. So, which is nice, but we could use a little rain. Yeah, the foliage is disappointing.

But on the other hand, I've been kind of in a, I don't know what to call it. But I've been just trying to get myself to fall in love with New England again. Okay. And I've been doing that by just making sure I have something on the schedule at least once a week to every other week that gets me out and doing something an activity or a new experience or something to be like, okay, it's not so bad here. And I know I complain about New England a lot, but it really is like it's hard for me because I've really. really, really love the West. And I just don't foresee myself packing up all my stuff and moving there again permanently for a while. So I'm just trying to make do with my situation. And so what I've been doing is like last week, I told you, I did the Moffitt Ladd House in

Portsmouth, New Hampshire, did their first ever public ghost tour of the property. And it's one of the most historic homes in Portsmouth. William Whipple lived there for a while. And it was built in 1700s and they had never done a paranormal ghost type of event just because they usually shy away from that on that property. Yeah. But this was the first one they did. So that was really cool. And just doing different events, the Portsmouth Historical Society is doing a couple

different cemetery walk events. This not like spooky ghost, not like spooky ghost or anything, but more of like these are the cemeteries we have. Here are some notable people who are interred here. are their stories type of thing. And just, I mean, a lot of the events that I'm doing are historic base just because that's what I find interesting. But just trying to find a new place to go or something to learn or, I don't know.

And just October's the best season to do it because the weather's killer. And everyone has everything decorated for Halloween. And it just feels like a nice atmosphere. So that's one thing New England has right now is the weather has been awesome. It's been 60s, low 70s, sunny every day. a little chilly at night. Like, it's been, it's been nice so far. Yeah.

Yeah. Well, I hope you fall back in love with New England, and I hope that you enjoy, enjoy your time here, however long it may last. Right before we started the recording. We were talking about, I'm not saying I'm buying a house here. I'm just opening my eyes to thought of maybe. She's perusing the house market in New England. Yes. specifically with Victorian homes because I kind of refuse to buy a home. I'm almost 35 years old. I've never purchased a home, but I refuse to make a purchase that I am unhappy with or I'm settling for. And I feel like I would be unhappy with anything other than a Victorian era home. So I've been looking at those. And there's been a couple that have popped up that I'm like, oh my God, I love these. And I sent them to Cassie. And one of them was really nice. But it was in where was it, Illinois?

Yeah. And Cassie's like, no, the fuck you are not moving. You're not going to Illinois. No offense to anyone in Illinois. It just makes no sense. You don't know anyone there. Your family's here. It's not the West. So it's not like, it just doesn't make any sense for you. I guess. Anyway, so if anyone. You would look great in a Victorian. Yeah. If anyone has any connections to a small Victorian home that's in New England, please let me. me know. But anyway, as someone in our comments recently said, I don't know how anyone listens to this podcast, shut the fuck up and start the stories. So we should probably start. We might as well do that. Can I go first? Yeah. Great. All right. Already like, thank God. I've just we're here waiting this whole time you stop talking and get to the story already on your podcast. Mine is titled A Bang, a Mermaid, and a Hairbrush. Hey ladies, my name is Holly. My name is Holly.

and I am from Essex County, Massachusetts. I'm a wicked fan of the podcast. Shout out to my fellow New Englanders. This story does not take place outside, but it is a spooky ghost story. This is my second of three encounters with spirits and only one, not outdoors, but I think it's the most interesting. Maybe someday I will submit all three stories. When I was 10 years old, so 23 years ago, my mom, my youngest sister, and I moved into a

duplex after my parents' divorce. The weekend we moved in, my best friend. came over to hang out and help me unpack. What happened in that apartment stayed with me ever since. I remember vividly starting to set my new room up, placing knick knacks on my wooden dresser that was covered in Lisa Frank's stickers. I put my hairbrush on the dresser and set my prize aerial from the Little Mermaid, twist and spin figure in the center. My mom was making trips back and forth in her van, bringing boxes from our old place, which was only about seven minutes down the road, while my sister, my friend and I, were unpacking, aka playing around the house.

Eventually, we decided to play hide and seek. To give you a visual, the duplex was small. A living room, kitchen, and bathroom downstairs and upstairs was one smaller bathroom and two bedrooms. My sister and I shared a room. It was my turn to seek. I started counting downstairs and within seconds of looking for them, suddenly there was a loud bang and a thud from upstairs. So I ran up to see what had happened, only to find my bedroom door slammed shut and locked.

My best friend came out of my mom's room looking just as confused as I was. We started pounding on the door, yelling at my little sister, thinking she was playing some sort of prank. I remember yelling at her, this is not how you play hide and seek. She was two years younger than me and my friend. And that's when we heard her voice. From downstairs. She called up to us sounding scared. Guys, I'm down here.

What's going on? So my friend and I looked at each other scared as hell and we both bolted downstairs. Now the three of us were terrible. So we locked ourselves in the downstairs bathroom and we all just started crying and we're in pure panic mode. Luckily, my friend had a cell phone, which before that moment made me jealous. And we frantically called my mom. She could hardly understand us because we were crying and babbling.

We told her we thought someone was in the house and she was not convinced. But she still rushed home because she could tell how shook we were. When she finally came home, she unlocked the bedroom door with a pin. You know those doorknobs with a push-in lock you can unlock with anything long. pointy. We all went inside and I immediately started scanning the room. That's when I noticed two things. My aerial figurine, which I had left facing forward, was completely turned backwards. And in my hairbrush, sitting exactly where I left it, were strands of white hair. Nobody in that house had white hair. My mom actually just started recently getting her first graze in her 60s.

Pray I take after her in that department. But anyway. my grandmother is in the picture, et cetera, and to this day, it bothers me that my mother shrugged it off and thought nothing of the white hair in my brush. Years later, I learned that the neighborhood was built on land that used to be Native American territory. I felt like the strange presence we experienced in that house might not be just some random spirit, but a reminder of much deeper history. Throughout the years of living in that duplex, my sister and I would hear footsteps going up and down the stairs. Sometimes I would even hear faint whispers and voices, but never being able to make out the words. I have tried to

rationalize it over the years. Maybe the open bedroom window slammed the door shut. Maybe we all overreacted. But no matter how I spin it, I cannot explain the white, frail hair in my brush. And honestly, to this day, I've never been able to brush it off. You get it. See what you did there? I mean, what do you think? What do I think? I think it's creepy and it's hard to explain for sure, especially an isolated incident like that. I know that, you know, she said that there was other sort of disembodied voices and noises and things like that that were seemed at least quite common.

But for that and to have like a physical piece of, I don't know, like evidence of something, it just feels. very strange. Yeah, the hair is throwing me off for sure. Because I would just think something like that, oh, the wind blew it shut and it accidentally locked. No biggie. But. And then aerial. The aerial turned around, which anything with dolls is so creepy. Yeah. And turning it around also to face the wall. And it's not like falling on the ground or whatever. I don't know. Yeah. I don't like that. Consensus, you got haunted. You got haunted. You got haunted for sure. 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. only on Prime. Okay, so my first story is titled, I Survived to Being Capsized by a 12-foot alligator. Oof. I told you, we're doing half and half here. Hi, my name is Emma, and PAD is my favorite podcast.

Thank you for sharing so many stories. Your show helps me feel connected to the outdoors, even when my responsibilities are keeping me off the trails. I love the Florida wilderness. Some of my favorite experiences include slogging and python hunting in big cypress and kayak camping along the Everglades Wilderness Waterway. I've had close calls with wild hogs, snakes, stingrays, and more, but this story takes the cake. Miyaka River State Park is one of Florida's oldest and largest state parks. I grew up there, camping and paddling the river by the time I was four. It's a beautiful place with a ton of wildlife, with one of them being particularly abundant, American alligators. Even with the elevated

gator population, paddling is still pretty popular. Just give them as much space as you can. and they will give you space. Well, usually that's how it goes. My boyfriend, now husband and I were car camping. We rented a canoe for a paddle and a picnic. I still knew the river by heart, even though it had been a few years since I had last paddled it. The most unnerving part was portaging over the concrete weir. A large amount of gaiters always hang near the weir, but we made it without a problem. A few bends in the river later, we passed the largest gator we had seen all day. He was sunning on the bank. I say he, because he was around 12 feet long and females tend to be about 10 feet at the largest. We stopped in a palm hammock up

the river for lunch before turning back. We passed the large gator again and he quickly slid into the water as we passed by. My husband and I kept our paddling calm but quickened our pace. Both of us watching the periodic bubbles following us. Eventually the bubble stopped and we relaxed knowing we were no longer being trailed by this 12-foot dinosaur on a narrow river. This was a bit peculiar. It just isn't common to have a gator following a canoe for that much of a distance. Fast forward about a month. Our friends, Colorado natives who recently moved to Florida, came camping with us. We rented canoes and set out for a paddle. We coached them on passing the gaiters. Give them space. Don't be too silent so you don't startle them. I would make noise by singing the deliverance banjo song,

unintentionally foreshadowing my own demise. I also warned them about the 12-foot dinosaur that may still be occupying that same portion of the river. And of course, we rounded the bend and there he was. His giant head just visible at water level. As we neared, his head sunk below the water and I told him, it's okay. Just give him as much space as you can. Keep your paddling consistent and make a little noise so that he always knows where you are. They passed without a problem. I glance behind me and I see that my boyfriend is standing up in the canoe while approaching a giant alligator. I yell at him over my shoulder to sit down and then the canoe hit something and hit something hard. I find myself in muddy, waist deep water, and for all I know, standing right next to this 12-foot predator.

My mind goes to the only possible logical explanation. My boyfriend lost his balance and flipped us, and I wasn't quiet about my realization. Meanwhile, my boyfriend says in a shaky and honest voice, it wasn't me. And there it was, the panic. Our heavy metal rental canoe is on the muddy bottom. There are thick reeds on either riverbank, which are host to loads of unseen reptiles, and our friends are staring, open-mouthed canoe paddles frozen mid-air floating down the river. So I execute the only logical plan I can think of.

I'm in the canoe until we have a plan. I'm in the canoe until we have a plan. There I am, crouching in the sunken canoe, watching periodic bubbles come to the surface, about 15 feet behind my boyfriend and repeating my new mantra. He finally convinces me to snap out of it. Through pure adrenaline, we managed to lift the metal canoe off the bottom and dump the water out of it. My boyfriend held the canoe study so I could climb in first. No wonder I married him.

You've said you're like, if you want to know if you're marrying the right person, go canoeing with them. It's so true. Actually, I didn't say that. I thought you did. No, a listener said that. And I said, Al and I don't get along when we canoe. Oh. Oh, you got married recently, so we'll see how it works out.

We started coaching our friends to paddle towards us, to hold the canoe steady enough for my boyfriend to climb into, and to recover our oars. Shaking with adrenaline, we floated down the river, trying to gather the courage to pass the gator again to get back to the canoe launch. Oh, God. We sat on the bottom of the canoes instead of on the seats, held our canoe side by side, almost like a pontoon raft. and slowly passed by the gator. Hearts racing until we made it far enough to relax. We made it back to the rental shop unharmed, although covered in mud and soaking wet. We told the clerk that the gator flipped our canoe.

Naturally, he didn't believe us. Jokes on me since I made fun of the $1,000 for lost canoe sign that very morning. I called the ranger station to report our experience and emailed the park biologist. I'm not sure if anything was done other than recording the incident, but I wanted to let them know, just in case this had happened before. My takeaways, this was likely a fed gator. We were two months ahead of breeding season, and the amount of time he followed our canoe on our first trip felt abnormal to me.

Like I said, I paddled that river for years. Gators may curiously follow you for a couple of yards, but not like that particular gator. Also, not far down the river is a fishing spot. Fishing in the park has gotten more popular, which means more gators are associating humans with food. Gator populations have also grown significantly since they were first listed as endangered species. We were incredibly lucky to have walked away from this experience.

Since then, we have paddled on freshwater only a handful of times and never again in Miyako watershed. This past June, a couple of paddlers found themselves in a very similar situation and they weren't as lucky as we were. One of them lost their life to the alligator that capsized their canoe. Stay safe out there, know the risks, and be smart about them. And as always, watch your back. Thank you for reading. Emma. Took me back.

That whole story took me back to my time when I was kayaking in the Everglades. And we saw a lot that were just that same scene of you see their head and then dive under the water and then you see bubbles. And it's very unnerving. It's very unnerving. Yeah. And I know it's very normal for people who recreate in Florida and other places. with gator populations. And it's just kind of a different breed.

Yeah, it's just kind of thing that you're just like, this is life here. And this is just we've grown accustomed to it. And in the same way that maybe some things we do is not normal to them. But I'm telling you right now, I'm uninterested. I do not want to do it. And I won't. And I know exactly what Emma is referring to, that story out of Florida this past. this past summer of the husband and wife being capsized in, you know, on their canoe and the wife died.

You know, the alligator got her. And it's just, and they were in like two feet of water. I'm not, I'm just not interested. It's like that's their turf. I'll stay over here. I've said it before and now, say it again. There's something about alligators and crocodiles that, and I know you were an alligator girl. You had the tooth. You were like in it for a while. They was in it. I just, they. They really, and it's not like I hate them. I just have a very healthy fear of them. And I just totally fair. I'm good with that. Like, I don't like canoeing enough to put myself in that. You know, there are certain situations with, I equate it kind of to like hiking. I love hiking enough that when I'm in a place that has a grizzly population or presence, I take that, I acknowledge that risk and I still do it. But you don't like kayaking or paddleboarding enough for that.

Yes, exactly. That's fair. Yeah. We all have our limits and gators are yours. Yeah. I actually have a stuffed animal alligator that Chaska is actually Chaska's favorite right now. And he usually destroys toys like in an instant. And he hasn't destroyed this one.

It's actually on my living room floor right over there right now. Do you hate it every time you see it? You're like. No, I actually love it because. So when Ian was living in Florida, he was like, you can come down and we can go paddleboarding on this. He was in Fort Lauderdale and it was like one of the areas that it was a waterway that connected to the ocean. But it was like kind of swampy. I'm like, I am not.

No, you're in Florida. There's alligators that I'm not paddleboarding there. Like you're insane. And we kind of, we didn't get into an argument about it, but I was just like very adamant that I did not want to do it. And he's like, yeah. So fun. And I told him, I'm like, I'm afraid of the alligators. I can't do it. So when I went down there, he's like, okay, I didn't sign us up for that, but I got you something. And he got me this alligator

stuffed animal. He's like, face your fears. Here you are. And so I still haven't. Every time I look at it, I think of that. And it's just funny that Choska, that's the one that he hasn't. Like, he'll carry it around and stuff, but he hasn't tried to destroy it yet. That is funny. I don't know. But I'll see how long you last. Yeah. Cool. Well, my next story is titled Prairie Dogs and Buttercream Frosting. Okay, wait, this one isn't scary.

I lied. It doesn't sound it. It sounds the least scary of anything. I see, I already forgot. It's like, this is a ghost that I would be cool with. Dear Cassie and Danielle, thank you for your amazing podcast. You mentioned once how happy you are that. that the NPAD community is so supportive of each other.

It really is, and that's because of both of you. I've learned a lot about National Parks while listening to your podcast, but have also learned a lot about how to be more respectful, inclusive, and empathetic towards others and their stories. Thank you for setting that example, and for all the incredible research you put into each and every episode. I learned something every time. Thank you.

That's really, really nice. I've thought about sending in this trail for a couple of years now, but I have held off because it includes breaking a National Park rule, even though it was an accident. So if you ever decide not to read it on the pod, I totally understand. Surprise.

No, we want to call you out. Please continue. I decided to finally submit it after having a year of loss and hardship. Among other things, I lost my dad in February, and I won't go into it here. But thank you for introducing me to the concept of asking for and receiving signs. I've gotten many signs from dad now that I know how to ask for them and how to look for them. And last month, I received a stage four cancer diagnosis. So I figured

what the hell I might as well send in this trail tale. And if nothing else, I hope it makes you both smile. By the end of spring 2020, my husband and I were going stir crazy. It was the first months of COVID and everything was closed and everyone was afraid to go anywhere. We were both working from home and realized that we had to get out of the house or we'd go nuts. So we decided to travel to one of the outdoor destinations on our list, Yellowstone. On July 5th, we packed up our car and my husband and I and our dog and set off for the drive from Wisconsin to Montana. Let me take a moment to introduce you to our dog. She was a cream-colored standard poodle named Buttercream frosting. We called her butter cream or butter for short. She was our first dog and was

beloved by everyone who met her. Everyone who has dogs tend to have that one special dog that is their sole dog. That was butter. She went everywhere with us and had already been cross country twice. She had dipped her paws in the Atlantic and Pacific, had hiked along the rim of the Grand Canyon, played in the California desert, walked across the Mississippi River at its source, and strutted her stuff in Times Square. Though she was now 13 years old, she was still active and healthy, and we were looking forward to another epic trip with her. On our first night, we camped in a state park near Theodore Roosevelt National Park. We had wanted to stay at the national park, but the campgrounds were all closed due to COVID. However, we had plenty of time the next day to drive around Teddy

Roosevelt National Park and were overwhelmed by its rugged beauty. At one point, while we were pulled over to watch some bison in the distance, we heard what sounded like dozens of dog toy squeaking. There in the field, not far from where we were parked, was a prairie dog town. Butter heard the squeaking and her ears picked up. She was looking out the window, watching them intently, but never got too crazy. It was the first time any of us had seen prairie dogs in the wild, and all three of us were fascinated. Eventually, we got back on the road and got to Yellowstone by nightfall. Once again, we had rented a small cabin about 30 minutes from the entrance and explored the park every day. We are sticklers for rules, especially around dogs in nature,

so weren't able to do much hiking with the dog along. Sometimes we had to take turns around. Sometimes we had to take turn seeing things so that one of us could sit with butter while the other made the walk to an attraction. But it was completely worth it. From her spot in the back seat as we drove through the park, Butter saw bison and elk and various other animals and once again never got too worked up. She was a very chill dog. After five days, we started the trip home with a stop to camp at Devil's Tower National Monument the first night. Once more, the campgrounds in the park were all closed, so we stayed at a COA outside the park's entrance. The next morning, we drove into the park itself, hoping to get closer to the actual Devil's Tower

formation. Right after entering the park, we came across a large prairie dog town. It was very early morning, and the prairie dogs were all out and very active. We pulled over to the viewing area to watch them and lowered Butters window just enough for her to be able to hear and maybe even smell them, since this would be her last prairie dog opportunity. Even though I didn't think she could fit through the opening, I held onto her collar from the front seat just in case. As always, she seemed fairly relaxed about the activity just outside the window. So when I suddenly had to sneeze, I wasn't afraid to briefly let go of her collar.

Oh no. Butter. Butter has been waiting for this moment. She's like her whole life. But before the sneeze was even finished, I saw a flash of a. of cream-colored curls streak through the back window and out of the car. Holy shit. Our poodle was running into Prairie Dogtown. I immediately jumped out of the car and ran after her. The prairie dogs had wasted no time in sending out the alarm. Loud, shrill squeaks filled the air as the animals ran to their burrows.

Meanwhile, this beautiful, elegant poodle was running in huge circles all around the Prairie Dog Town with the happiest look on her face that I have ever seen. Seriously, she was delirious with joy. She would get to a hole, stop, stick her head in, and just as I was about to grab her, she'd pull her head out and run to the next. All of the prairie dogs had long since gotten to safety, but that didn't stop buttercream. She ran and ran and ran while I ran after her in a futile attempt to catch her. What was my husband doing during all this, you might ask?

I still don't know. Laughing, maybe. I couldn't blame him. I do know at one point he got outside the car with her leash, but he never joined in the chase. Finally, after what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes, butter paused to catch her breath and I pounced. I made a flying tackle into the dirt and caught her by her collar. God, this is good.

Is buttercream frosting and blue the same dog? Because the amount of time I've done this is insane. As I frog marched her back to the car, I noticed a red SUV parked way at the other end of the viewing area. Had they seen all of this? I'll never know. But every now and then, I do search YouTube to see if there's a video of poodle chasing prairie dogs at Devils Tower. So far, nothing has shown up. Thank goodness.

I think you're in the clear. I think usually it's like pretty immediate. You know, people don't hold on to that to release later. Yeah, for sure. Unless they're trying to blackmail you for something. But I feel like they would let you know that they were blackmailing you. They're like, we have this damning footage of you. You're going to be so embarrassed.

Give me $500,000 or whatever it is. Like, okay. Once we're all back in the car and we had given butter some water, we decided to forget about driving through the rest of the park and just had get the hell out of there. However, we both felt terrible about what had just happened. dogs are not allowed off leash in the park and obviously are not allowed to chase the wildlife. And like I said, we are both sticklers for following the rules regarding dogs and parks. So we decided to stop at the Ranger Station on our way out and turn ourselves in and pay the $275 fine.

Are you kidding? That is like the most wholesome. You got away with it. Get out of there. Don't. Don't say any. Why are you even telling us? Don't snitch on yourself.

That is the most wholesome thing I've ever heard. Yeah. I mean, it's sweet. I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't either. So. Yeah. However, because it was so early and probably because of COVID, there was no one there.

Rather than wait, we vowed to mail a check once we got home and we did. No. Stop. I hope they never cashed that check. I would be actually interesting. I'm sure they did. I'm sure they did too. Yeah.

The parks need it. But, man, you didn't have to be able. You didn't have to. No one knew except for a red red SUV guy who also didn't tell on you. Right. You could have gone away with it. But it is. The guilty conscience.

I mean, like, you're better than we. Yes. You would never. Wow. That was without a doubt the happiest day of Buttercream's very pampered, very happy life. She started to slow down the next spring and we lost her at the age of 14 in July of 2021. I've attached some pictures. of her from that Yellowstone trip.

She was a special dog and we miss her every day. That being said, to all your listeners, please don't do what we did. Keep a leash on your dog at all times when in a national park or anywhere that doesn't allow dogs off leash. Don't let your guard down even when your dog's in the car and don't think a dog's not interested just because they act nonchalant, especially the smart ones. They're always plotting. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

and thank you again for a podcast that has gotten me through some very tough times lately. You're both amazing humans. Please feel free to use my name as anyone who knew better will know it's me anyway. All the best, Karen. You got a heart of gold sister. You do. And it's so true especially. So we worked with a veterinarian who had, she was a poodle lady.

Like she had two standard poodles and a mini poodle. And they are always plotting. They are always blotting. And it's like they're kind of those dogs that feel like they're humans stuck in dog form. Yeah. There's a lot going on in there. Like Patrick kind of creeped me out. Like, I feel like human.

Yeah. I was like, are you okay in there? Yeah. Can you speak? Can you actually talk? Yeah. And she brought them every single day to work. So we spent a lot of time with them.

And I, yeah. The little one. I don't have the same feelings about, but the standard poodle, yeah, I do. Well, I hope they did something really nice with that money. And I feel for you because as a previous owner of a dog who was quite literally always plotting and didn't really ever try and hide it, I was always on edge for that sneeze moment of just letting my guard down for a second because he would be out of here. And I know the stress that is trying to make sure you're following all the rules while having a lawless dog.

So, yep. Okay. My next story is titled Earwigged out of Lolo National Forest. Yeah. Get ready. I hate earwigs. Buckle up. No.

Hi, Cassie and Danielle. I've been listening to your podcast for a few years now and I've sent a few trail tales already. But this time I wanted to share my most recent and most traumatizing trail. yet, which thankfully occurred in a National Forest, so I get to share it with you, which was the only good part of this story. I was working my third summer as a whitewater raft guide on the Clark Fork River in Lolo National Forest in my favorite state, Montana. We're a small company of about five to eight full-time guides each summer, and most of us live in cars, campers, or tents on the property. The property sits above cliffs overlooking a big eddy between the rapids. It's

absolutely stunning, though unfortunately we haven't figured out how to launch cans of beers from the cliffs into the river quite yet. Every summer, the earwigs and bugs around the property become a major nuisance. By July, we don't dare leave clothes out on the picnic tables or even let PFD straps touch the ground, because if you do, the next time you grab it, hundreds of earwigs will fall out. My first summer, I slept in my car, which worked fine, though it got annoying, making and unmaking my bed to use my car. My second summer, I switched to a small backpacking tent. Unfortunately, a hole formed that took me far too long to find, and I ended up with hundreds of earwigs in my living quarters. I'd always get freaked out finding them in my bedding, but took comfort in the fact that the first thing to come up when Googling earwigs in ears is, this is a myth and misconception.

Oh, how this would come back to bite me in the ass. No. No. I'm so sorry for what I've heard enough. It's like, there's got, it's got to be rooted in some sort of truth. Why would they have that name? Right? I saw an earwig the other day. And itchy. Okay. For my third summer, I decided to really live it up. I got a six-person tent just for me, a rug, a cot to keep my bedding off of the ground, a portable AC, an inflatable couch, which will be taking its maiden voyage down the river next summer, and even a little patio. set up with an easy up and outdoor carpet.

That is a fancy tent setup. This feels really nice, actually. Yeah, I would live there. It was fantastic. I did quickly notice earwigs being attracted to the door of my tent and would often find them falling in as I unzipped it. I tried a couple of things. First, a ring of vinegar around the tent

and spraying diluted vinegar. That didn't work. Then I discovered diatomaceous earth, which supposedly kills earwigs but is safer for pets than poison. I dumped a ring around the tent and especially at the entrance. It worked until it rained. Eventually, I gave up and put my faith back in Google's false reassurance that my crevices were safe. Now for that horrible, horrible night.

I went to bed unusually early and sober. Is that unusual? Around 2 a.m., I woke up in that half-sleep, half-awake stage. I was chilly, so I flipped. my comforter up and tucked it over my shoulder like I usually do. But this night was different. As soon as I flipped the blanket, I felt something land on the upper lobe of my ear. Weird enough to wake me more, but before I could fully process it, it went plop straight into my ear canal. No. My eyes shot open. And before I even had time to think, what the fuck was that? The pain hit. Now, I have an incredibly

high pain tolerance. I've dislocated and popped my shoulder back in during a rapid, walked normally on a broken foot, and shrugged off other severe injuries. But this was some of the worst pain of my life. It wasn't constant. It came in waves whenever the bug moved. And the sound. The only way I can describe it is like how loud mac and cheese is when you stir it, especially coming from inside of your own head. Ew. I hate that sound in general. I would have ripped my ear off.

I have noise issues, though. Yeah, you have misophonia. How do you say it? I'm not really sure misophonia, where I have a hatred or also known as a hatred of sound. Right. Yeah, I have my own personal issues that I've been working through for a very long time. I've had it since I was a kid.

But yeah, that would chewing, sloshing noises in particular are very, very difficult for me. So I would have to rip my ear off for sure. It literally felt like it was swirling my brain around. Oh, God. God. I freaked the fuck out. I flew out of my tent screaming, what the fuck, what the fuck over and over. My first instinct was to gaslight myself into thinking it wasn't a bug because that was

truly my worst nightmare. I shook my head, plugged and unplugged my ear, but everything triggered more movement, more pain, and dropped me to the ground. Finally, I ran to my co-worker's tent, woke him up, and through so sob, said, I'm so sorry, but there's something in my ear, and I need you to pull it out. He grabbed tweezers in a flashlight and tried his best. I was still trying to convince myself, it wasn't a bug, so I asked, do you see anything? It's like, I'm praying that you don't, and I'm just, like, going through. Overreact. I'm a break right now. When he said, I think I see something black, I cannot tell you how fucking fast I sprinted

to the shower. I blasted water directly into my ear for 10 minutes. Afterward, the movement and stabbing pain stopped, but there was no way I could sleep until a doctor confirmed it was gone. So at 3 a.m., I drove 40 minutes to the ER, not realizing there was one only about 20 minutes away. I was still full-blown panicking and called my mom on the way just to keep from hyperventilating. When I arrived, the ER was dead quiet. Thank God. They got me back right away. Suddenly, I had an entire audience of staff excited to see a 3 a.m. patient with such a bizarre problem. The doctor explains

the plan. Lidicane drops to kill the bug, then extraction. Apparently, this is common enough that they have a routine for it, question mark. He dropped the lytocaine in and went on digging. I held a nurse's hand so tight. It was like I was giving birth while 30 people watched on. I mean, I feel this from a medical perspective. It's like you don't want anything bad to happen to people or pets or whatever. But like from a medical perspective, when an interesting case comes in, you want to be involved or at least, you know. Yeah. It's like a double edge sword. When it was over, the doctor said, okay, I think we're done. I asked, was it a bug? The nurse looked down, clearly debating whether to lie, and then nodded. I immediately told them to take it away, though now I wish I had gotten a picture. I begged for anxiety medications, but they told me no, and instead let me stay until I calm down enough to drive back. I got back to the rafting property around 5.30 in the morning, stuffed tissues in my ears, and maybe got an hour and a half of sleep before a guiding trip.

Ever since, I can't sleep without earplugs, and I wake up if they fall out. I still get anxious thinking about that night and sometimes I feel like crying, puking, or cutting my ears off all at the same time. I feel you. To top it off, I've been left with chronic ear pain and possible hearing loss that I'm trying to now figure out. Anyways, thanks for listening to the most traumatic night of my life and feel free to share. Let this be a warning. Enjoy the view, but always wear earplugs when you sleep. McKenna.

I do, McKenna. I wear ear plugs every night when I sleep. So. Even at home? Um, not at home. Sometimes I'll wear them if I'll snoring though. Yeah. I mean, new fear unlocked. I never, the only time I've seen a ton of earwigs like that was in Washington when I was moving, I was taking down my hammock and they were everywhere. I almost considered throwing out my hammock because every single nook and cranny they were in and they just kept, I couldn't believe how many there were. Yeah, I was stacking wood the other day and there was a bunch in the wood pile that I was stacking. But I have heard of bugs going in people's ears before because Al actually had a very similar incident to this one. But his wasn't in camping. He actually thinks that he put his headphones on and he thinks that there was like a beetle or something inside of it.

And when he put it, the bug hadn't nowhere to go except down his ear canal. And for days he was complaining. He's like, I have to go to the hospital. Something's seriously wrong. And I was like, what? Like just like, so he's like flushing it out and doing. all this stuff. And then he ended up going and he got some like special flush to do it and pieces of like a beetle came out of his ear. I just don't understand with it's like where are you going? It's like what's your game plan little bug?

Yeah. It's like I understand getting in there. But then like you got to turn around at some point. I don't know. I feel like they're like. Oh my God. I just I feel for you McKenna because that is like I would I would react the exact same way that you did. And I I hope that. that the hearing loss and stuff is something that's temporary or it can be fixed or it can be handled because that's also scary and a whole other adventure after going through something that's very traumatic. But good for you for so sleeping outside after that. And you found a way around it. I mean, earplugs are a great way and you sleep better anyway. Yeah, talk about being scarred for the rest of your life.

Yeah, that's a, your wings. Okay. Well, my next story is titled Trail Tale. It's a surprise what it's about. I couldn't tell you what it was. Hi, ladies. My family decided to visit my grandpas and stepfather's families in Portland, Oregon and southern Washington on the Kalama River. We had spent a great few days at my great grandma's house, a few days in the beautiful and historic cell wood within Portland,

and the whole time I was begging my parents and siblings to spend a few days in Olympic National Park. I wanted to see it so bad. We were looking for places to stay and couldn't afford anything in forks or the surrounding port towns and eventually agreed on a small house in Nordland, Washington on Marrowstone Island for two nights. After a long drive and some trouble finding the actual house, everyone but me was in a bad mood. That's weird. We've all been in such a good mood all week, but I get it. It was like six hours in the car and my siblings had no interest in this detour. The house was on a cliff overlooking the admiralty outlet and the weather, was absolutely beautiful. The inside was small and old, but cute and fairly well taken care of.

I took a seat on the porch swing to take in the views and ocean smell. My sister was in the hot tub already, and my brother was hiding somewhere in the house, stewing in his teenage angst. We eventually decided to get our stuff settled and looked around the house more before finding a place to access the beach. My sister and I start digging through the closets and find a bunch of board games we thought would be fun to play when a box falls off the top shelf. To our utter dismay, it was an old, dusty Ouija board. None of us like Ouija boards. We spent 20 years living in a wildly haunted house, so we tend to be fairly sensitive to the kind of energy Ouija board give off. Also, why is there an old school Ouija board in an Airbnb? No, thank you. So we shove it to the back of the closet and go to the beach. As the sun was

starting to set, we headed back to the house. There were three other cabins on the same property and all were empty except our house. We were literally the only car around, but when we pulled back into the driveway, both the front and back doors were wide open. Did we forget to close them? There wasn't any wind to blow them open if they didn't latch, but I watched my mom close and lock both doors before we left, so I doubt that's what happened. We checked the house for any people, no signs of anyone having been there, and we never got a message from the owner about them or a cleaner stopping by. But what we did notice was that the air felt totally electric, kind of like when something spooky is going to happen. As we walked in, we passed the cellar door in the main bedroom to the left, and the previously dark cellar now had a light on that we could see under the door.

We had no way to access this area, and once again, no sign of anyone besides us having been there all day. We obviously started joking around about a ghost being in the basement before making dinner and enjoying the last drags of the daylight bounding off the water. Eventually, my sister made our brother go into the secondary bedroom with her to grab something because she had felt like something or someone had been watching her since we had gotten back from the beach. While they were in the room, she also made him close both the doors that led to the living room and a small hallway that had a view of the cellar where the light had turned off and on again since our arrival. All of a sudden, our stepdad came running through the room to scare them since my sister was already on edge. She asked him how he came in so quickly and quietly, and he said that the doors were wide open. The cellar light was back on, too. As we were getting ready for bed, my brother, sister, and I began arguing over who got to share the second bed and who had to sleep on the tiny couch in the living room.

In the middle of the argument, we hear that classic goofy scream, as our mom comes sprinting out of the bathroom slamming the door behind her. I turned off the light and as I went to walk out, something told me to turn around and there was a mask blacker than black in there. Maybe stay out of the bathroom until morning. It was scary as fuck. Maybe stay out of the bathroom. How about you make an order that no one is to enter that bathroom?

How about you leave the house? Or that. The energy in the house shifted and shifted. entirely at that point. Any dark room or corners seemed unnaturally black, the world around us unnaturally silent except for the constant droning noises coming from the nearby military base. And then we all panicked. All five of us sequestered ourselves into the main bedroom. My stepdad grabbed a knife and a block and blockaded the door with our luggage. I, a 23-year-old, semi-adult at the time, slept in bed with my parents while my brother and sister kept to the floor.

Peter Pan on repeat throughout the entire night. I love that because I do the same thing. It's like if I'm scared, I put on like the least scary thing I could possibly put on. Yeah. Same. To be like everything's fine. Or you watch a scary movie and you need a pallet cleanser after to not have nightmares. Despite the sweltering heat of that old house, my mom refused to let us open any windows,

even waking up screaming when my stepdad tried to opening them in the middle of the night. Throughout the night, there were knocks and bangs along the wall, shared with the bathroom in the second bedroom, and the cellar light kept going on and off. When morning finally came, we immediately packed up and accessed one tiny corner of Olympic National Park near Lake Cushman. Everyone said, screw staying a second night, and while I was glad to not go back to the house, I was so disappointed I didn't get to spend more time at the park. We went back to Kalama for our last few days and lamented over our experience. While it's very likely the night was made worse by a case of shared hysteria amongst us, more than willing supernatural believers, my sister bears a scar on

her foot where she anxiously scratched away her skin while watching Peter Pan over and over throughout the night. Also, no one listens to my ideas on vacations anymore. Looking back on it, I can't believe we reacted psychotically as psychotically as we did, a bit of an overreaction for people who are used to seeing shadow figures at the foot of our beds and listening to bumps in the night. But something about that place was truly strange. Maybe one day I'll finally get to see the hoe rainforest, but I don't plan on going back anytime soon. And my family sure as hell won't come with. Danielle, maybe you could offer an opinion on that area after living in Washington, question mark.

Thanks for reading. I did not have an experience like that. That's for sure. But where was it again? Some islands. Marrowstone Island. Okay. It's not that.

This was a long time ago. The way she was describing this, I for a hot second, thought it was going to be where I went. This was in 2016, maybe. It's before I moved to Washington. It was like the trip that kind of sparked me wanting to move there. I stayed at Fort Warden historical state. park in Washington. And it gives a very similar, like, creepy vibe, I feel like. And when we stayed there, it was like, there wasn't a lot of people there. And you could stay in a lot of the old,

um, like barracks and stuff. And it was like overlooking the ocean kind of in a similar way. And it, I don't know, it was just kind of strange. But it's, um, in Port Townsend, Washington. So It's a little different. But yeah, no, I don't know. I don't really have a opinion other than, I don't know if it was like a total overreaction. I think all being scared at the same time is okay. And at least you're all in it together. I would have probably left, to be honest with you. I think I would have left. I know I would have left. With the something about the lights going on and off and the doors opening and close, like you, how are you going to? I wouldn't have even gone in the house when I came back from the beach and saw all the doors were open. Peter Pan can't fix that, you know? Yeah. I would have thought someone was in the house and I would have freaked out. Yeah.

Yeah. Probably just would have like eaten the cost. But I don't know. It is kind of hard. It's especially if it's late at night, you don't know the area. Like you've already paid for the plates. And if you're on a budget too, it's like I've already paid for this. Yeah.

The Ouija board, man. Or you just got to go full in and ask the Ouija board. What's going on? Yeah. I don't know. I can't do Ouija. I've never even. touched a Ouija board. I have when I was a little kid, but it was before I knew. Before I knew.

Okay. My last story is titled Near Cougar Attack in the Grand Teton's. Hi guys. My name is Kelsey, they, she. I found your podcast through tooth and claw. And now everyone in my life knows about it. Thanks for all the exciting work that you do. This year, 2025, I decided that I wasn't going to wait any longer to book that solo trip to a national park. I had done a few solo adventures with my dog before, but the Grand Teton's were calling my name and the pup had to stay home. I spent months planning this adventure, including listening to endless episodes of yours and tooth and claw to make sure I was prepared for camping alone and camping in bear country, as they were both something I'd never done before.

Vacation came sooner than I anticipated. My two weeks of freedom had finally arrived. This situation occurred on my first Thursday of the trip. I arrived on Sunday, and aside from a black bear in my campsite, I woke up at 5 a.m. to see her walking straight to my tent. Things had been pretty calm. Thursday morning was a drizzly gray morning in the mountains. The day prior to this hike, I chose this trail to get away from the crowds.

It was a beautiful 16-mile out-and-back canyon hike with a plethora of backpacking sites along the way. The trail split off into a few other paths, one of which I decided to take, which is how I got myself into this situation. That morning, I had walked past two groups of people heading towards the trailhead. When I started the trip, there was a group of backpackers, the parking lot stuffing their bags for the night. About five miles into my journey, it started to rain lightly, so I pulled my poncho out. I hadn't seen any other humans in about an hour up into that

point. To my dismay, it started to downpour about 30 minutes later, so I took advantage of a tree that was covering a spot on the stream and ate my lunch. When the rain finally let up, I continued my adventure. Humming to myself, I watched my feet as they stomped the earth, stepping in enough puddles to soak my socks. About two months in was when I saw it. Oh, months. Did I say months? Yeah. That's a long time. A long time on the trail. About two, I almost said it again. Minutes. No, miles. Ah, the other M word. About two more miles in was when I saw it. Placed in the center of the trail, as if it was an offering, sat a half-eaten fawn carcass. At first, my brain registrar. this as a dog because of the way the ears were shifted. I stopped dead in my tracks and pulled out

my bear spray, backing up slowly. For context, I am a bone artist. I make jewelry from roadkill that I pick up to honor and cherish the animal's life. The thoughts race through my brain quicker than a cougar kills. I could take that home. Seconds later, I was like, I can't just take a carcass out of the forest. The streets are a bit different. And finally, I thought, yeah, Kylie, touching an animal's food is a good way to get yourself killed. I assessed the situation trying to figure out what road to pass through. My voice chanting, Hey Bear, was the only noise in the vast forest.

To my left was a large boulder and to my right was a hill that opened to a rock scramble. The fawn was soaking wet, so I knew that I had been there for at least 45 minutes. As it took about 30 to get there from my stopping point and the rain led up shortly before that, I made note that it had to have been abandoned for a while. At this point, I thought perhaps a... The bear had left its meal behind, but I knew that I could have potentially been stepping over the food that a new predator was coming for. The forest seemed calm, so I selfishly persevered. The canyon was within my

eyesight, and it was something I did not want to miss. I completed another two miles and 30 minutes. The canyon was as gorgeous as I hoped it would be. Now the sky was visible above the tree line, so I could see that the darkness was consuming the sky. My backup socks were soaking wet, so I debated turning around. The final show. straw was the fact that I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that I was being watched. I gave in and turned around with my eyes glued to the path in front of me, scanning for the deer carcass that I had hopped over. I ran into a couple under the tree line before I found it. Hey, did you guys pass by a deer carcass? My stomach was tight. I had exited the tree line prior to

finding the body. With wide eyes, the woman stared at me as she and the person she was hiking with shook their heads know. Shortly after letting them pass with warnings, I came across the group of backpackers I had seen earlier in the parking lot. I explained what I had seen to them, and this time I was what met with shock and fear, making my nerves even worse. A chorus of questions arose from the group. Are you alone? Do you have bear spray? Were you making noise? Are you scared? Who are you going to, who would ask? Are you scared? It's like, now I am. It's like, why would you ask me that? I answered all with the same response I had been providing for the past few days. Everyone that I ran into was begging to know if I was alone.

Yes, I'm alone. Yes, I had bearsprite. Yes, I was making noise. And yes, fear is present. But I am more afraid of accepting loss to the government than losing my life in a battle to a wild animal. At least they aren't malicious. We started a short conversation in some laughs, which helped calm my racing thoughts. They nodded and kept on their trip.

A few yards behind them stood a ranger. She was pulling a sandwich out of her bag when I practically jogged over to her. I probably looked like a mess, soaked even though I was wearing a poncho that was far too big, eyes wide, and words tumbling out of my mouth in the same way that the river was roaring behind her. I found a deer carcass in the middle of the trail. I passed it, which I knew was risky, but when I came back, it's gone. Her eyes matched my own, but instead of brimmed with fear, hers were eager with excitement. There aren't bears out this way.

You stumbled upon a mountain lion's meal. I think you scared it off its food, but it was most certainly watching you the entire time. Eerie. Her words struck me to my core. Cougar, why did I not think of that? A cougar, which I am more familiar with than bears, because we have those at home, but the fact that a cougar's eyes were following me, a 5'4, 150-pound adult who was alone in the wilderness thinking it was a bear, not a cougar, my mouth went dry.

The forest worker was elated to hear. more about my incident. I think she made me recall it three more times, and she reminded me four more times to send her the video before we split ways. The entire hike down, I was on edge, thinking about how easily it could have been over if I had just stooped down and listened to the urge to physically move the body off the middle of the trail. I mean, who could blame me? It was rude to leave food on the path. Now I recall this story with a great deal of excitement. It's my favorite one to share. Every time I think of it, I feel like a badass, but I am also haunted by the fact that the cougar had so many opportunities to attack me as I was expecting a bear to run in front of me, not a mountain lion

to attack me from behind. Prior to this trip, every time I watched a listener's story episode, I racked my brain for one to share with you guys. As soon as my feet brought me back to the car, I made a mental note to send this in to the podcast. I attached the video and a screenshot so you can see how perfectly place the fawn was. Just a warning, it is kind of graphic. The fawn was mostly consumed. You're more than welcome to share if you'd like. Thank you so much for reading. I love sharing this spooky story. Have a wonderful spooky season and happy trails. Oh, and yeah, watch your back, Kylie. It is a really cool and a nerving experience to come across such a fresh kill from a mountain lion. And I mean, great, you didn't touch its food. And you just

kept moving. And I also feel like just based on the very little I know about mountain lions and their behavior and stuff, to me, it feels more like you startled it or it heard you approaching and it dropped it in the middle of the trail and went and hid because, like you said, it was gone when you returned. So clearly it came back for it. And if it was done eating and was going to come back for it later, it would have cashed it somewhere. Yeah. Not just left it. So I feel like it got scared and just was carrying it or actively was eating it and just dropped it suddenly and high-tailed it out there and was watching you from the bushes or whatever. Yeah. And I don't think it's unnerving that it could have killed you. I think it's actually reassuring it didn't. Yeah. I think it's an unnerving experience to know that you were that close. But yeah, I think, I don't know. I think that we see time and time again that it's pretty unlikely for a mountain.

lion to attack you. And they had a food source. So as long as you're not threatening that food source. And even if you were, I don't know, like, if it had left, if it would just be like, okay, and leave it. If you thought you were a threat enough or if they were hungry enough that they would protect it. But either way, I think that mountain lions are usually pretty elusive for a reason and non-confrontational with people. But a cool experience, you got to know that you were like right there with them and you saw one of its kills. And I see why the other person was so intrigued by your experience. The ranger for sure.

Yeah. The other hikers, if somebody just came up to me randomly, he was like, hey, did you just see a dead deer? I'd just be like, I would ask a follow-up question and be like, no, but why? Yeah. Well, thank you, everyone for writing into us and for always participating in our trail tales. This is one of our favorite episodes to do. If you have a trail tale and you would like to submit it, you can find that link on our website,

NPADPodcast.com. And that's, we do have two more stories today for our outsiders on Apple subscriptions and Patreon. Mine is titled Bad Bibes from a Shipwreck. And mine is titled New Jersey and Florida and haunted government housing. Oh, all right. Well, thank you everyone for tuning in. We'll see you next time. The meantime, enjoy the view.

But watch you're back. Bye. Bye. Thank you for joining us again this week. If you have a trail of your own you'd like to share, you can write to us at NPAD Stories at gmail.com or visit our website at npaddpodcast.com. Bonus trail tales and content are available to Patreon members and Apple subscribers. Follow the show on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X at National Park After Dark.

And if you prefer to watch our episodes, you can find us on YouTube at National Park After Dark. And as always, if you enjoy the show, please take a moment to rate, review, and subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts. You're listening to this podcast, so I know you've got a curious mind. Here's a helpful fact you may not know yet. Drivers who switch and save with Progressives save over $900 on average. 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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