National Park After Dark - Trail Tales 81

Episode Date: November 20, 2025

Today’s stories include rites of passage, veiled threats, small town legends, and mysterious melodies. Outsiders Only bonus stories available for Patreon and Apple Subscribers!For the latest NPAD updates, group travel details, merch and more, follow us on npadpodcast.com and our socials at:Instagram: @‌nationalparkafterdarkTikTok: @‌nationalparkafterdarkSupport the show by becoming an Outsider and receive ad free listening, bonus content and more on Patreon or Apple Podcasts. Want to see our faces? Catch full episodes on our YouTube Page!Thank you to the week’s partners!Nutrafol: Get $10 off your first month’s subscription and free shipping when you use promo code NPAD.Ka'Chava: Go to https://kachava.com and use code NPAD for 15% off your next order.Coyuchi: Get 20% off your first order when you visit Coyuchi.com/npad. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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slash Visit Scotland Everyone Welcome back to National Park After Dark. We have another trail tales for you guys today. We do, we do. And, you know, I'm so excited to get into it because I have, people are responding to my requests when I'm like, I want local lore. I want X, Y, Z. I want elevator stories.

I want this and that. People are really responding to that. And I think I have a little bit of everything in mine today. So can I go first? Yes, you can. Okay. My first story is titled Third Bridge, A Haunting in Colorado. Hi, Cassie and Danielle.

My name is Ethan, and I'm a longtime listener, first time caller. NPAD has been a ground in comfort to me since the pandemic days of 2021 and has kept me company on many road trips and adventures across the U.S. since then. I'm so grateful to you for you both sharing yourself so openly and for the community that you have cultivated. It's been wonderful to see the pod grow and evolve into the amazing thing that it is today. That's so nice. An OG listener. Which, thank you so much.

Yes. We've said it before. We know we've been through a lot together. We sure do. To answer your call for local folklore, I want to tell you about the Denver area urban legend of a haunted bridge and the true story of my own paranormal experience there. I've always been a lover of all things spooky, though I consider myself spiritually agnostic. I value evidence and direct experience over dogma, yet even I can't fully.

explain what happened to me that night in 2012. Located about 25 miles east of Denver in the rolling high plains of Colorado, there is an unassuming bridge along a barren stretch of state highway. The bridge, which spans the long-dried up riverbed of the former Kiowa Creek, now sits 15 above a grove of gnarled, wind-swept oaks. Locals call it third bridge, since it's the third bridge you encounter driving east along county line road. To most, it looks unremarkable, but according to Lowe. legend, it is cursed. Dun, done, don't, don.

The story goes that the site was once the scene of a massacre of indigenous people by white settlers in the 1800s. The desecrated ground of the site became cursed by the blood of the innocent. And ever since, Third Bridge has been tied to murders, disappearances, and a string of fatal car accidents. If you're brave enough to visit after midnight, people say you can hear faint, tribal drumming, distant battle cries, and even witness a lone rider on horseback. But a word of warning, never mock the same.

spirits or risk becoming another victim of their curse. Growing up in Denver, I heard this legend back in high school. My friend group and I were at that age where we were just discovering the fun of getting spooked watching horror movies at sleepovers, scaring ourselves silly with Ouija boards, or sharing stories of our own supernatural encounters and hushed tones around a dying fire. I did that in the basement of my friends' homes, scaring the shit out of each other with watching scary things. The Exorcist to this day. I can't watch it. I've seen it once through, like, start to finish. Never again. Yeah. I'm not a big fan. The Grudge also got me. Oh, good one. Yeah. The Grudge. I saw the Grudge in

theaters. Same with my stepdad, actually. Me with my dad. Her moms were like, no. Yeah. Not our lane. Even when we were there, I'm like, I don't feel like this is appropriate for me to be here. Are you sure you don't want to leave? I remember just sitting there with my jacket, like over my face and being like... I sit over. Especially like one image from that movie that is ingrained in my brain is when the girl is in the shower and she's washing her hair. And suddenly that thing starts coming out of the back of her head and she freaked up.

It was like the hands or something. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, but. The three movies I remember very vividly seeing with my stepdad, which for context, we don't do many solo activities together. So any sort of one-on-one moments are significant in my memory. And I very vividly remember seeing crossroads, eight miles. Crossroads and the exorcists.

Eight Mile and the grudge with him. Okay. Which is reflective of my personality. I think. Okay, back to Third Bridge. When we heard the story of Third Bridge from a friend's older brother, we knew we had to go there to experience this local haunting for ourselves. That very night, six of us snuck out well after midnight and piled into a beat-up minivan. We blasted music and laughed while we sped along increasingly rural deserted roads, the lights of civilization fading behind us as we hurtled east across the dark plains. Apprehension began to take over when the pavement

ended and the road became gravel. We tried to maintain a playful mood, but all of us were intimidated by the remoteness of the bridge and the darkness of the night. Cell coverage was spotty and then vanished, adding to the suffocating feeling of isolation in our teenage minds. It was already after 3 a.m. by the time we found the bridge. The black night was moonless and overcast. A thin fog clung to the ground beneath the bridge like the ghost of the creek that once flowed there. We parked, agreed to walk across and back and stepped into the October cold. The stillness and silence was absolute. No breeze, just the crunch of gravel, under our feet. We made it across without incident, giggling nervously. Feeling bold, I announced I would go

under the bridge. The girls objected, but the guys dared me on. I was scared, but like most teenagers, I wanted to show off. I climbed the barrier at the edge of the road and descended into the gloom. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness under the bridge, I found some run-of-the-mill satanic graffiti. Okay. Yeah. I'm normal. I don't think I've ever seen that, but. Plenty of discarded beer cans and bottles and the charred remains of campfire. I realized I was looking at a makeshift campsite. As my blood ran cold at the prospect of not being alone under this bridge, I heard what sounded like the squeaking of mice. I scanned the ground trying to find the source of the sound. I heard it again and realized the sound was coming from above me. I gingerly pointed my flashlight

at the bridge directly above my head. A mass of furry bodies began to stir at the intrusion of light, and they were freaking bats, hundreds of them. I am a lifelong hyperchondriac, and even Even then, I was very well aware of the risk of rabies. I instantly switched off the light and quickly pulled up my hoodie over my head and pulled the drawstrings tight, fearing an impending swarm. I crouched low and slowly made my way out from under the bridge as silently as I could so as to not disturb the bats. I didn't even think about that once when we went intentionally under that bridge in Austin. What about rabies? Yeah.

Yeah, me either. Now that you say this, Ethan, should we have been? Concern? I don't know. I don't really hear of rabid bats very often. I have the rabies vaccine, so... You're good. I'm not. I feel fine. I worry for you. You don't need anything. I won't fare well. No. When I got back up to my friends on the edge of the bridge, they were all listening intently to something uninterested in my close bat encounter. Do you hear that? Someone hissed in an excited whisper. What? I asked. My mind's still in bat mode. We still. We still an absolute silence for a long minute before I heard it. It was so faint that I wasn't sure if I was imagining it, but they all heard it too. Drifting in and out of audibility, we could ever so faintly detect the rhythmic sound of drums. We stared at each other with dumb faces and complete

disbelief. Are we for real hearing ghost drumming right now? Like teens in a horror movie, we decided to split up. Each bravely walked apart from one another to different parts of the bridge to try and find the source of said drumming. We each heard it, sometimes at the same time and sometimes one by one. Shocking me out of the near silence, one of my friends who is the most supernatural skeptic of the group suddenly shouted, hey, if there are any ghosts here, show yourselves. We all turn to quiet him with pleading expressions, well aware of the curse to befall those who offend the spirits there. Yeah, that's a bold statement to make. You don't taunt the spirit. Show yourself. How about politely? Is that you?

Lightly is anybody with us. Yeah. Respectfully. Respectfully. It's okay if you don't want to. I would personally love it. But it's not a requirement. Yeah.

Show yourself. It's like, who do you think you are, first of all? It's like, you're inviting some bad juju. We waited for a moment and the silence was deafening. No drumming. Nothing at all. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt we were being watched. And he shouted again.

Hey, we drove all the way out. here if there are any ghosts here, and before he could finish, he was cut off by a sound that I will never forget. A single piercing shriek interrupted him from somewhere in the dark trees below. Trees that I had just climbed from minutes prior, and it did not sound human. We all screamed bloody murder, bolted to the car, and absolutely tore out of there without looking back. After the thrill of our escape subsided, we sat in silence on the long drive home as we reflected on what we had just experienced. I could have sworn that I heard a horse's hooves pounding the ground beneath the bridge during the mad dash to the car, and my friend insisted something had grabbed her at the moment of the shriek.

We snuck back inside the house undetected and passed out safe and sound before dawn curse averted. Upon writing this story of my experience for you, I decided to do a little digging to learn the truth about the legend behind the cursed third bridge. Several miles from the site of present-day third bridge, there was an event that came to be known as the Hungate Matter. massacre. On June 11, 1864, a young settler family consisting of Nathan and Ellen Hungate and their young children, two-year-old Laura and six-month-old Florence, were brutally murdered in their home. Their bodies discarded in a well, and their ranch set ablaze. The crimes were immediately blamed on members of either the Cheyenne or Arapaho tribes, as tensions had recently been rising precipitously between those groups and the white settlers who were new to the land. But to this day, no one

really knows who killed the Hungate family. The murder of the Hungate family was one of a series of of escalations that led to the despicable events of November 29, 1864. This is known today as the Sand Creek Massacre, where the U.S. military attacked an unguarded Cheyenne in Arapahoe Village, mutilating and killing an estimated 150 indigenous people, most of whom were women and children. The legend of Third Bridge was likely inspired by the atrocities of the San Creek Massacre, though in reality, this took place a few hundred miles from the location of Third Bridge. A site on Big Sandy Creek in Kiowa County is now preserved by the National Park Service, and there's our National Park Service connection. The Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site was dedicated on April 28, 2007,

almost 142 years after the massacre. As for the curse, it is true that at least one murder and multiple fatal car accidents have taken place in the vicinity of Third Bridge. In June 1997, a car accident on Third Bridge resulted in the deaths of two teens and the permanent paralysis of a third. In June of 2010, the lifeless body of a high school teacher, Randall Wilson, was found discarded near Third Bridge with a plastic bag over his head and his hands tied behind his back. And most recently, on October 2, 2016, a car of five thrill-seeking teens carined off the road near Third Bridge. The car rolled and burst into flames, tragically ending the lives of all five passengers. looked into theories explaining the source of the mysterious drumming sounds, and to my disappointment,

I learned there are several oil extraction rigs within a few miles of Third Bridge that emit a faint, rhythmic thumping noise reminiscent of drumming. As for that shriek that scared us senselessly that night, your guess is as good as mine, human, animal, or vengeful spirit. As with any urban legend, the story of Third Bridge changes over time like a game of telephone, bending the truth and tragedy into myth. So, is Third Bridge really cursed? Or is it a self-fulfilling prophecy of teens driving faster than they should, chasing the cold thrill of an encounter with the unexplainable? Haunted or not, the location of Third Bridge in Colorado has seen more than its fair share of human tragedy over the years and deserves to be treated with dignity and respect.

If you decide to visit Third Bridge for yourself, keep your voice down, drive carefully, and stay alert for wildlife and other people nearby. Thank you for reading my story, and And as always, enjoy the view, but watch your back for bats when you walk under haunted bridges. Ethan. Ethan, I love how you told that story because I really love that you kind of almost debunked the myth of it being haunted because of its indigenous ties but still honoring the history that happened there. And I really liked the way, I think it's really easy to lean into being like, oh, it's

haunted. We had this experience. But I really like that you were like, hey, maybe. it's not haunted. Maybe we just freaked ourselves out and something happened, but this is the true history in this, in this location. And kind of my first thought when you heard this shrill sound was we have in our backyard a lot. We have foxes and they scream. And yes, that was my first thought was maybe you spooked a fox or maybe there was just a fox in the vicinity that was doing something and you heard that. Okay, that is a very likely explanation. If you haven't heard for whatever reason,

I have a couple of red fox that live on my property that I see and here often. If you have, for whatever reason, never heard a red fox scream, Google it, YouTube it, it does sound weirdly human but not at the same time. Yeah. So definitely do that. And the second thought that I had, or the first thought I had about this story was very reminiscent of Ghostland by Colin Dickey. Yeah, I was thinking that too. Yep. As far as, hey, here's this legend and lore. And while it's fun at surface level to perpetuate it and tell around a campfire or in the basement of your friend's house,

why don't we do some research into the origins of this story and maybe look at it from a different perspective? So, Ethan, right on track with that. Thank you for sharing with us. Yes. So good. So good. Everything you want for summer is at Nordstrom rack stores now and up to 60% off. Stock up and save on the brands you love like Vince, Sam Edelman, frame and free people.

Join the Nordy Club to unlock exclusive discounts, shop new arrivals first and more. Plus, buy online and pick up at your favorite rack store for free. Great brands, great prices. That's why you rack. pivoting to another story. My first one is titled 13 for 13, a right of passage. Hi friends, long time listener, first time trauma shareer here. I love the podcast, the storytelling, the passion for the outdoors, and now I finally have a story worthy of the chaos you feature so beautifully. My name is Tori. You can use it, and if this story gets shared on the podcast, I will absolutely scream, cry, and maybe even shit my pants.

Hmm, maybe some foreshadowing there. Question mark. Question mark. And we're back. Please don't shit your pants, but we are happy or excited. You are on the podcast. So let's rewind a couple of years. My son, let's call him Cruz, was turning 13. And I thought, hey, let's mark this milestone in a meaningful, memorable way. You know, something heartfelt, something symbolic, something slightly stupid in hindsight. My brilliant idea? A 13-mile overnight backpack. trip because what better way to say welcome to puberty than by strapping 30 pounds to your back and wandering into the wilderness with your hormonal family. To make it even more Pinterest mom, I collected letters and advice from friends and family to give to Cruz along the way. Wholesome, right? It was going to be challenging but beautiful, tough, but transformative. Spoiler, it was mostly just tough. I like the vibes here. I think that this sounds fun. That's a very sweet idea. Yeah, it's very sweet idea.

It's probably going to go awry. Yes, I agree. The intentions are recognized. Yeah, your heart was in the right place. We chose the Kendall Catwalk Trail off Squamom. Snowqualmie. That's how you say it, right? I've been on this trail.

Oh, really? I've pictures of being Chaska on this trail. Yeah. Okay. Off Snoqualmie Pass in Washington. I'd hiked it before and remembered it as, quote, pretty easy. This is a great example of why memory is a light. lying liar who lies.

Day one, nature has entered the chat. We prepped like seasoned pros, checking gear, scouted the trail, shared our plans with family, redistributed packweight 47 times to make sure Cruz didn't hate me too much, and headed out at dawn, hyped and highly caffeinated. We handed Cruz his first letter from Grandma. It was touching. I felt victorious. What a good mom I am, I thought.

One mile in, the first crack appeared in the perfect family hike facade. My husband was spotted sprited. printing off the trail clutching a roll of toilet paper like it was a golden idol. He disappeared into some sparse brush. We waited and waited until he reemerged looking like a man who had just been emotionally mugged by his own digestive system. I had to throw away my underwear, he said flatly, and the toilet paper. Rolled down the hill.

Literally down the hill like it was escaping him. He tried to chase it, but the faster he pulled, the more it unraveled. Just like this trip. You had one job. Hold on to the toilet paper. I can just picture that like you're holding it and you're trying to reel it in as it just keeps rolling. You're making it worse. You're making it go faster by unraveling it.

No meds, no backup toilet paper. So we sent him back down to the gas station we passed on the way in, told him to rejoin us later and made a backup plan. If he wasn't at camp by 3 p.m., we'd head back down. After all, he had half the tent. Meanwhile, in Suffering Land, with Dad running Operation Emergency Wipe, I continued up the trail with Cruz and her family friend. I would like to personally apologize for past me for describing this trail as easy. The trail quickly became more of a mild rock climbing gym.

Cruz's feet were wrecked, his spirit was crumbling, and I was doing Olympic-level mom tap dancing to distract him. Here, have a snack. Let's play a game. Isn't this fun? He was not having. having it. Our friend was far ahead, checking in every so often to confirm we hadn't perished. Meanwhile, we trudged along at the pace of emotional decay. When we finally reached the catwalk, we could see the lake and the campsites, but had to walk around the lake forever to get there.

It was like the trail was personally trolling us. But we did make it. We ate, we drank, we sat, crews perked up, and it was almost fun. Then cue the dramatic music. My husband appeared on the trail with one hour to spare. He looked tired but triumphant. We cheered. The family was whole again, and we thought, what could go wrong now? Everything. Literally everything. No. We set up camp, soaked our feet, not near the water collection spot, don't worry, and shared the rest of Cruz's birthday notes. Some were hilarious. Some made us cry. Emotionally balanced, unlike the weather. Dinner was peaceful. We ended the night crammed into a a three-person tent built by liars, playing games to avoid being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

Then it was time to sleep. Let me rephrase. It was time for everyone else to sleep. I discovered my pillow had a leak. My husband, the secret gear hoarder, just happened to have an extra. Seriously, who carries a spare pillow? What is he? R.E.I. Santa. Settling in with my borrowed pillow, I heard the first raindrops. Cute. P&W. ambiance. Then came the wind. The thunder and the lightning. This was not cozy storm while camping. This was auditioning for a Discovery Channel survival show. The ground shook, trees whipped. My child clearly was trying not to freak out and was looking like he was calculating how many ways his mom had failed him. I counted lightning strikes like a human storm tracker with anxiety and it was very clearly

close. And it went on for hours. Then my sleeping pad gave up on life. It slowly defated like my dreams of rest, and my butt hit the cold hard ground. Could it get worse? Oh, yes. The flood and the floating footwear. I noticed water pooling near our feet. Our tent was pitched on a slight slope, and all our gear was under the vestibule at the low end. I sat up and whispered to my husband, our shoes are floating. To his credit, he sprang into action. In boxers and sandals, in the middle of a thunderstorm, he went out and scalped everything uphill, sloshing through puddles like a soggy hero. He saved our shoes.

I saved my rage. Cruz and my husband fell back asleep instantly like well-fed toddlers. I stared at the ceiling for what felt like four eternities, and the next morning there was blood, sweat, and tampons. At dawn, everything was miraculously. peaceful. I finally stepped out to pee and surprise. Mother Nature was not done with me yet. I had I had started my period in the woods on a slope after a sleepless night. It was not a polite trickle. It was a vengeful flood. I waddled to our friend's tent where I had stored my bag and then cleaned up like some kind of cranky

backwards crime scene technician. When I got back, I woke everyone up with all this suddenly of a fire alarm. Get up. We're leaving. That was the last draw for her. It's like, no, not this. No one argued. Our friend, by the way, had mostly slept through the storm because he had noise cancelling headphones in. Smart. This is why I wear headphones and earplugs when I can't. Someone needs to sponsor you personally. I know. For noise canceling. I will give my real, my real reviews on. Heart and soul. And I'll use him. I'll use them for sure. He happily declared that storm was a Amazing. I did not punch him, but I really did think about it. We hiked out, sore, tired, and mildly broken. Hikers coming in asked if we'd camp through the storm. Did you get pictures? They asked. No, we were too busy surviving. I smiled politely while imagining pushing them off the ridge. Eventually, we made it back to the trailhead. Our shoes dry, family intact, souls slightly frayed. Did crews have a life-changing, unforgettable coming-of-age experience? Absolutely.

Did I nail the memories that last a lifetime part? You bet I did. Possibly in a mildly traumatizing way. But hey, it still counts. Moral of the story, if you ask the universe for a rite of passage, be very specific. Where else you'll get dysentery, emotional collapse, a thunderstorm, floating shoes, and a surprise period. Happy trails and remember, enjoy the view, but maybe keep your shoes inside the the tent. P.S. The trail really is gorgeous and so fun. Just not this one time. I agree. Because

I've been on it in the winter, actually. So I don't know how it is in the, it sounds like a summer trip, but you did nail a memorable experience. Cruise is not going to forget that ever. No. I don't know what I did. He's 21. He's going to be like, someone's going to be like, what did your parents used to do when, for, to celebrate your birthday? And he's going to be like, well you know what one time. There was this one time. When I turned 13. I think.

I don't know what birthday it was, but I was really, really into Survivor. And my mom made a whole survivor themed birthday celebration and had the Survivor theme song going on our CD player. Teaky Torches lit. And this is all like my birthday is December 10th. It's in the middle of the winter. And she did it all in. like our formal dining room, she turned it into this survivor thing. Yeah. That's where we thought about. I don't, I'm not sure if it was for my 13th birthday, but it was definitely around that time. Yeah. Okay. My next story is

titled Rumbas, Coils, and Clusters. Yawate and P-A-D found your podcast through a suggestion from a link. I'm glad I found you. I feel like my workday is shorter while I listen, laugh, cry, learn and discover many new places through your shared voices. Thank you both. My name is Dale. I wanted to share with you two trail tales. Even though both of these stories don't occur in national parks, they are in federally protected land held in a trust by Congress for tribal use under the plenary powers, clause of the constitution. Ironically, the Bureau of Indian Affairs is not under the Department of Human Services, but rather under the Department of the Interior, as are national parks. American Indians are seen and treated as natural resources. But back to my tale. Growing up in the Navajo Indian Reservation, my mother would wake my brother and I to run to the east at the start of each day and pray at dawn. When I was in high school, I would run in the morning to the east and pray before showering and going to school. One morning, I noticed on the red rock cliffs to the east of my community were streaks of what I thought was water coming down the sides. As I was running in

a dry riverbed, I thought I needed to be mindful of a flash flood. As I ran, I continued to glance at the sandstone cliffs and noticed that the streaks were not coming down. but rather going up. Although it was still pre-dawn, the sky warmed up enough to see. I had to investigate. As I climbed up the slope from the sandy riverbed to the cliff face, I realized it was clusters of tarantulas, climbing upward to the coming skylight. What? I didn't notice right away because my eyes were focused upward, but when I looked down, the spiders were starting to encompass me. Alarmed, I carefully retreated to the riverbed. I thought no one would ever believe me, so I swallowed my fear and picked one up. My spine tingled as each one of its legs moved in my clasped hands.

The creature settled easily into my palm as it was the size of my palm and began to warm up. It balled up getting cozy in my warm hand. I said my prayers and walked steadfast right back home. I retold my story to my mom as she prepared for work. And she simply replied, uh-huh, uh-huh. She probably thought I was just being creative. That's when I-oh. You needed to steal the tarantula. That's when I opened up my palm and said, see? After getting warmer, the tarantula scurried up my sleeve. My mom screamed in shock and yelled at me to take it right back outside. I asked to keep it for a little while to show my friends as they wouldn't believe my story either. I didn't own a camera back then. I'll stress that you should not take things from the wild. In the end, I returned it back to the cliff after showing it to all my friends. And they too recoiled when I opened up my palm. For me, if I did not watch those Saturday morning nature shows and learned about the desert tarantula, I would have never picked it up. But when I did, I overcame my fear of spiders, and I hope I helped my friends overcome theirs. My second story is for my brother. As a sophomore,

my brother attended a school off of the reservation. The bus stop was a small gas station at the junction of Navajo Route 12 and U.S. Highway 666. It has since been changed to U.S. Highway 491. The bus for his college prep school usually came around in the later evening. on Sunday. As the daylight drained away, he realized he missed his bus. He had no other means of transport, so he decided to hitchhike to school. My brother hiked for miles northbound on triple six without any takers willing to bring on board a lone mill walking down Highway 666 after nightfall. Imagine that. Everyone was like, nope. As my brother hiked along, he heard the yips of packs of coyotes to the east and west of him. So he would jog when no cars were approaching, as he crested one

hill and started descending into the valley, an oncoming 18-wheeler started down the valley towards him. When the truck neared the bottom of the valley, it blared its horns, and that's when he saw it. At the very bottom of the valley, it looked like a flash flood had covered the road. He scanned the horizon for lightning or rain. He still had miles to cover before he would arrive at shiprock, New Mexico, and as he continued down towards the bottom of the valley, headlights appeared over the horizon behind him. He spun around and stuck out his thumb. With many lights, he recognized. He recognized recognized it was a semine. As the truck approached him with its lights on high beam, it also blared its horn. The horns continued till it crossed through that black river. As my brother got close, he could see a black trail in the semi's wake from the red tail lights as it disappeared over the hill. And that's when he heard them. The coil, the rumba of rattlers covering the highway. What looked like a flash flood from a distance were actually snakes writhering in pain, biting anything nearby as they were run over by the My brother did not dare cross on foot.

He was finally picked up by a small vehicle when they also witnessed the carnage. As he was carried safely across the coil of writhering flesh clinging to life, the snakes bit at the tires to no avail. Some snakes were even biting themselves. And that gory tale shook me. My suspicion was that the snake sought heat from the asphalt, much like the tarantulas sought heat from the warming red stone. Just to add, my brother did not bring home a rattlesnake to prove his story. Thank you for what you do. You bring joy to everyone who has witnessed those gaggles, parliaments, murders, pods, dens, prides, swarms, flocks, schools, herds, bundles, and convocations of life that

share our Mother Earth. As a wise flathead Native American tribal member said, we humans cannot live without the Earth and all it provides us, but the Earth can survive without us. We are not more important than the soil, wind, and water, nor are we entitled to it exclusively. We must share and care for all that is around us. As always, enjoy the view. Take as many pictures as you need. Leave the artifacts and animals alone and take only what you need. Always watch your back and watch your step.

A friend or foe may be beneath you. And as my people pray each morning, above me, below me, and in each direction, I pray, walk in beauty, in beauty it is done. Walk in beauty, my sisters, and keep trekking with your great storytelling, Dale. I love that. That's beautiful. I know. And it reminded me.

so much. Thank you, Dale, for sharing this with us. This story and how he concluded it really reminded me of the Navajo Code Talker story that I covered last year in November for Indigenous History Month. And Chester's story is just so incredible. And that's one of my favorite books of all time. And he talks a lot because he also was Navajo. If you're looking for an extra story to listen to this month. Please check that out. It's on our subscription platforms. It's really a good one. And I highly recommend it. Kind of blast from the past. I can't believe it's been a year since that. I know. I feel like I just, you just told that story. I know. I just love stories from like differing perspectives. I mean, I've never seen a natural phenomenon like that with that many snakes or

that many spiders and things like that. Have you? Um, No, no, I don't think so. And I was thinking when they were telling this story about the tarantulas, I've never actually seen a tarantula in the wilds. I've only seen them as pets. You're right. I haven't either. Like I think we had one in our classroom and one year growing up and I've met people who have pet tarantulas. And I've seen them in pet stores, which is also, I hate pet stores, but I've seen them in there. But I've never actually seen them in the wilds. I don't think I have either. Now that I think about it, I do remember a high school or college friend or acquaintance. I couldn't even tell you. It must be an acquaintance because I don't remember their name. But somebody in my dorm, sophomore year, had one as a pet. And I remember just letting it crawl all over me. And it was like on my face.

And I thought it was so cool. I'm like, look at me. I'm not like a regular girl. I'm a cool girl. So embarrassing. That story did also remind me of a time where we were kids and I was with one of my friends and we were playing in a pond and a snake, a gardener snake, came over to me and for whatever reason I picked it up and I was holding it. Yeah. And I was like, I really want to show my dad this.

So, and the pond was right across the street from his house. So I came back and my dad wasn't home. So I just stood on the steps. He was like out getting groceries or something. So I just stood on the steps with the snake in my hand waiting for him to get home because I wanted him to see it. And I didn't think he would believe me if I didn't have it with me. So it was just standing there and he got home. And he's like, put that back.

Like what are you doing? Meanwhile, you've been there for an hour and 45 minutes. I'm like, look what I found. Literally. I mean, I don't remember how long it was because I was only, I mean, I must have been like 10 years old. But I just remember being so proud and him being like, put that back now. Thank you for showing me. I would have believed you. Beautiful. Put it back.

Girl, winter is so last season. And now Springs got you looking at pictures of tank tops with hungry eyes. Your algorithm is feeding you cutoffs. You're thirsty for the sun on your shoulders. That perfect hang on the patio sundress. Those sandals you can wear all day and all night. And you've had enough of shopping from your couch. Done hoping it looks anything like the picture when you tear open that envelope. It's time for a little in-person spring treat. It's time for a trip to Ross. Work your magic.

All right, my next story is titled, I still wonder if he wanted to kill me. Hey, you two, you would not believe how many miles you have run with me over the years of listening to you. Hundreds, I'm sure. My own Cassie introduced me to you and I've been hooked for years. I finally decided to share my own trail tale and I hope it gives you a thrill. In college, I had a friend who met me in a very vulnerable, unsure time in my life. He insisted he was in love with me and eventually I gave the relationship a try. This is all very relevant, believe me.

It didn't work out and we broke up after only a few months. We had been friends for a year before our ill-fated attempt. I was sure that we would be all right. After all, we had been there for one another. we made each other laugh and went on adventures together. We had been friends, hadn't we? His rage at rejection was more powerful than any love we had shared. He threw me out of his house late at night,

told me I could get kidnapped on the way home for all he cared. I walked through the empty wooden streets back to my dorm, sure that I would never see him again. A month later, in early March, he called me out of the blue. He apologized for his temper, told me that he hadn't meant what he said about our friendship, being worthless, begged me to come on a little day hike adventure with him that Saturday. When I say I was in a vulnerable place, I mean it. I didn't tell him I deserved better.

I wanted to trust him to have a friend back. I agreed. We didn't drive to one of the popular hiking spots. We drove further and further into the middle of nowhere and I watched the bars on my phone tick down slowly as if I were leaving them behind. We drove through fallow fields without passing another car for miles. We approached some foothills of the Shenandoah Mountains and were suddenly enclosed in the reach of dormant trees dimming the light of early afternoon. He parked the car just off the road next to a little gate with a chain across it.

There was no ranger booth, no park entrance, no name. Just a narrow, dusty little path leading into the woods. This took longer than I thought, I said, trying to sound surprised rather than angry or scared. I didn't want him to realize how unsettled I was, both in case it made him angry and in case that's what he wanted. What's an adventure without getting a little lost? He said to me, his smile broad.

It was at this point I mentioned that I had work at six, that I had to be on time, and that people would be looking for me. I pocketed my phone, hoping he wouldn't see the big no service on the face of it, though I was certain, his said the same. He began to walk. I kept him in my line of sight walking with confidence that I didn't feel. At this point, I was very aware I had led a man who once wished violence, on me, lure me into the middle of nowhere, away from anyone who loved me with no weapons

or means of contacting help. But I hadn't decided he might try to kill me until we left the meager path in order to climb a hill. It was clad in years' worth of leaves. Climbing up it was like trudging through fresh snow powder. We slithered and crunched our way to the top, where a spectacular view awaited us. The valley is really beautiful in all seasons, even the bleakest ones, the inamic sun silvering the fields far below. I looked over at my once friend, his blue eyes a little too wide, his smile even wider as he took it all in. This was years ago, but I still remember him saying this like it was yesterday,

how it chilled my gut and spoke to the fear that had been growing since the car. Can you believe how far out here we are? You could hide a body out here and no one would ever find it. I don't know if he was trying to be funny, trying to scare me, or if he had contemplated it, and to what degree he had seriously done so. I took out my phone and snapped a few greeny pictures, including some of him and some of me. I plastered a smile on my face and said something to the extent of, wow, I can't wait to show these pictures to my friends at work.

We should probably head back now. I don't want to be late since they're counting on me. At some point, he pulled out his knife, a long folding knife, and showed it to me. I can't remember the reason because I was convinced it was a lie. I turned and started sliding down the hill as fast as I could back to the trail. In a shower of leaves, he slid down the hill behind me, his knife out. He was using it to slow himself down as he went, his face completely serious with focus, and I have never been more scared in my life.

I landed at the bottom and stood up, picking up a nearby stick, just so I'd have something in my hands if this was the moment. I had tried to keep myself as oriented as possible so that I would be able to run in the direction of a farmhouse, but they were all over a mile off. I was sure of that. When he got to the bottom, he stood up, gave the knife a few practice swings, and simply pocketed it.

I couldn't believe it. We obviously made it back to the car. As he drove, I watched my bars slowly come back. My friend says hi. I remember saying the second some messages came back. She knows we are hiking today and hopes we don't see any bears. It was a bald-faced lie,

but I wanted him to know that people knew we were together. I had one hand on the handle of the car in case I had to bail out. Not sure what I would do after, but at least I would be away from him if I needed to. He drove me to my job. He earnestly asked me if we could hang out again, and I said numbly, I would have to check my schedule. The second he was gone, I texted another friend and asked if she could pick me up and if I could spend the night at her place. I did so for the next three days or so. I did not continue that friendship. At the very least, this man wanted to scare me, wanted to make me feel small and at his mercy.

At most, he thought about it. And I still think about this almost 20 years later. So ladies, go on your adventures, thrive in the reasonable danger. Don't let fear control your life. But watch the people at your back. There's a reason we choose the bear, LJ. And there's a reason everyone always says, listen to your gut. Yeah, that's so scary.

And I totally agree that he went out there with a bearer, minimum intentions of scaring you. Yeah, for sure. Especially because it sounds like you knew this person very well because you had a friendship and then you had a brief romantic relationship. You, like, the fact that you felt like this was off, I think is just very telling that what this person was doing was very out of character of the person that you knew and felt safe with prior. It's so depressing hearing stories like this because it really reinforces something. that I think a lot of women deal with and that's the sadness that comes with sadness and fear and all these other things. But with quote unquote friend zoning somebody and truly wanting

to be friends with somebody that you just either you tried or just right off the bat, you know you're not going to have a romantic connection with. But then on the other end of that. But you think you might like them as a person. Yeah. From our end, you know, it's like If that person gets either like this and gets super upset and rage filled or just ghost you, it feels so shitty from this point of the spectrum or the side of the fence with, okay, so you don't value me as a person or for a friendship, you just wanted one thing out of me. Yeah. You know, and I think that a lot of women are waking up to that. And that's why we're kind of in this new wave of with the whole like male loneliness

epidemic quote unquote thing and all of that. I know you just rolled your eyes so hard. But it's like we're okay. You know, it's just we've kind of had enough with that. I think all women have had a point in our time where we have friends owned a guy and it has not gone well for us. And I totally understand like if someone truly has really deep emotion. feelings for you and is like, I'm sorry, I can't just be friends. Like, that is fine. That's valid.

Um, that's valid. And I can totally respect that. But when it changes, especially when it is always one-sided where this person has like secretly had all these feelings for you and you never knew it was just a friendship for you the whole time. Or if it turns into this really dark place where it's scary and, you know, I think a lot of like, sorry, I just want to be friends. You get hit back with like, I never liked you anyway. You're ugly. You're stupid. Like, I hate you. Or go in the blank insult. Yeah. Like some type of insult is followed with it. And I think every single person, every woman has had this experience, at least once. Yeah. Ready to soundtrack your summer? With Red Bull Summer All Day Play, you choose a playlist that fits your summer vibe the best. Are you a festival fanatic? A deep end DJ, a road dog, or a trail mixer. Just add a song to your chosen play. list and put your summer on track.

Red Bull Summer All Day Play. Red Bull gives you wings. Visit Red Bull.com slash bright summer ahead to learn more. See you this summer. My last story is titled, Maybe an Axe Murderer Encounter along the PCT. Oh, God. Perfect. Hi, Danielle and Cassie. I'm a long-distance through hiker, aka someone who hikes an entire trail from start to finish, and having completed two of the three triple crown trails, I've decided to hike the PCT doing the entire 2,700 miles of it in 2023. I did some extra miles that year, along with approximately 2,700 miles of the Continental Divide Trail.

For those new to these trails, the Appalachian Trail is also a Triple Crown Trail. I've also done some large sections of hikes that these three trails, as well as the much shorter but still beautiful, you went to Highline Trail in Utah, leaving me with nearly 7,000 miles of through hiking experience. Like many through hikers, I hike these trail solo. I am a female, but I still make friends with the many other hikers along the way. I've always wanted to submit a trail tale, but never thought I had any stories worth sharing. Side note, I do. I will share more maybe someday. This story takes place along the PCT in the state of Washington in July of 2023.

I was in the process of through hiking the trail when I had an incredibly strange encounter with a potentially dangerous man. Another side note, I was hiking southbound at the time. though I originally started the PCT northbound. Hiking in California's highest snow year and wettest year on record was a challenge. And when I reached the Sierra Nevada and hiked partway through in 400% snowpack, I had to turn around due to a five-day blizzard. Instead of wading out the blizzard, myself, along with many others, flipped to Washington,

tag the Canadian border, and then hiked back to where we left off south. In my case, and a story for another day, my new end to the PCT was a very special sequitry where I had turned around with a friend during this blizzard. Anyway, now that you understand why I was hiking south to the main story, I was hiking the PCT to White Pass and to a general store in a small gas station called the Cracker Barrel. That is Cracker with a K, not a C. I had just come from a seven-day stretch without a shower due to the remoteness of Washington, so I was excited and ready to get to White Pass where hikers can eat some warm French

toe sticks, camp behind the gas station, and have a shower while charging their battery banks. Huge shout out to that store. I was about 10 miles or so from White Pass, hiking with another PCT hiker, not a romantic partner, not even a permanent hiking partner, as I was a solo female, which is completely normal on these trails, who was a few miles ahead of me. When I came to a trail junction with a side trail, at the trail junction was an older white man with white fluffy hair and an 80-style mustache, a blue shirt, extremely short cargo shorts, and a large, oversized square backpack. He popped out of the side trail, took one look at me, seemingly got very excited, and asked

if I was a PCT hiker. I said yes. Now remember, I am seven days in with no shower coming from a section that had some burn scars and ash. All of that to say, I was very, very dirty. The man immediately proceeded while turning onto the PCT to ask me a 5-1 30-year-old female at the time if I was hiking alone. Side note to men, please do not ask this question to solo female hikers.

Just be normal. Anyway, just be chill, bro. Anyway, while I was technically hiking alone, I said no and that there was another hiker just ahead of me, which was technically true because I was not hiking that stretch fully by myself. I got an immediate weird vibe from this guy, like a blood going cold, stomach dropping sort of feeling. I continued hiking along the PCT, and sadly, the man immediately.

and excitedly began to trail after me. He hiked just behind me, close enough to breathe down my neck. Again, I will emphasize, I stunk, I smell atrocious. So for him to hike that close to me, and with such great excitement, I might add, was odd. I began hiking faster to haul some serious butt away from this guy and brought up my pace to what was probably over four miles an hour. That is pretty quick, because I'm a fast walker and I usually am around like three point. to, I think, when I'm walking. So four is like... Like in a city, like kind of thing, not on a trail. Yeah, like a normal walk. I was in very good hiking shape as I was more than a thousand miles

into my through hike that year, hoping and assuming that this man would not be able to keep up with me. Well, the man did keep up. In fact, he took a light jog behind me in order to keep up with me. His backpack jingled with whatever was inside while he jogged. He was so close to the back of my head that he could have grabbed or sniffed the little hair fuzzies sticking out of my ponytail. It's like he's like right. He's right there. And he's like fast pace walking slash lightly jogging, which is a weird pace to keep

up with somebody that you just met. I hate this. After he'd asked me if I was hiking alone, he went on and on about females being, quote unquote, alone out here. He then immediately proceeded to state. quote, this is the part of the trail where all of those hikers went missing. As it turns out, this area near White Pass was where Chris Fowler, a 2018 PCT hiker, had gone missing.

As to who the other hikers were, to this day, I cannot find any information on any other missing persons near White Pass. The man in his large square backpack, which was making jangling noises from whatever was inside, began saying that this area was boggy, which was true. It was a bit of a boggy area. and that, quote, bodies could just disappear. Why are, this is the second time in this episode. Why?

Somebody has made this type of comment. Yeah, why men? Why? He mentioned something else about missing women and we kept walking. Again, not sure who these other supposed people are. This is where I began to really freak out. I was angry, not so much scared that this man dared to interrupt my happy morning after more than a thousand miles of the PCT hiked solo solo.

far. No small feet. I strongly felt like he was bad news and potentially dangerous with these comments. Plus, something in my instincts were screaming at me that this was danger. I did not have bear spray on me, as this is not something people commonly carry on the PCT. I just had my trekking poles, and I readied them in my left hand, my fist in a death grip, as I thought about preemptively striking him in the face. While I thought about my attack or escape options, this man continued to talk about the missing hikers and various people. He said he quote unquote knew the local sheriff quite well and had volunteered many times to look for Chris Valor, the missing PCT hiker.

He also stated that he was friends with the author of an upcoming book about missing people on the PCT. I wonder that's Andrea Lankford. Yeah. Interesting. For people who don't understand that comment, Andrea Lankford wrote her second book, is Trail of the Lost and it goes over three individuals.

who got lost on the PCT and Chris Veller is one of them. This felt like a lie to me, or an over-exaggeration, but I kept listening as his backpack jangled. I tried to calm my anger and realize that my best option as a tiny person was to keep this strange man behind me. I did not want to let him go ahead of me where he could be in an ambush position. And if I whacked him with my trekking poles, that would amount to assault. And technically, I did not have any reason for self-defense yet.

So I asked him questions. I kept him talking. He went into incredible detail of the search in these bogs for the missing PCT hiker and how hard he worked looking for him. Talked more about being friends with this author, the other missing people he did not mention in great detail. But the way he talked about these missing people and his volunteering to search for them in bogs excitedly felt really sick. It made my skin crawl, just the tone of his voice, almost as if he enjoyed it. Or so screamed my instincts. What really gave away that he was bad news was when we finally and thankfully bumped into the guy I was hiking this section with.

My hiking companion was getting water from a pond and taking a break. We were just an hour or so away from food at the cracker barrel at this point. My hiking companion saw me hiking fast with this creep of a man breathing down my literal neck, just centimeters behind me, and his eyes grew wide. I made a face as I approached him trying to communicate nonverbly that something was amiss. With glee, I turned around to the creep behind me, startling him and introduced him to my hiking partner. The creepy man took one look at my hiking partner. Now it was his turn for his eyes to grow wide and said, yeah, right, nice to meet you.

And said nothing else to my hiking partner. No introduction, no discussion of his heroic missing person searches, absolutely nothing. Yeah, he couldn't stop talking until. See, this is why we need nice men around. I know. They do stuff like... Just your presence. Yes. Literally, this man hasn't even done anything yet. He's just physically there.

Just standing there. Yeah. After that, this creep of a man took off. Excuse my language, fucking running down the trail. A real forest gump. Sprinting nearly. Not jogging, not hiking fast, but running until he disappeared from view. I explained everything to my hiking companion who was immediately horrified. He was horrified too by how close the man was to the back of my head. We both kept hiking fast, trying to see if we would see this man again. With us being in good shape, we both assumed we would bump into him again and readied ourselves for a fight if need be. But we never did see him. The man simply vanished. There were no side trails, nothing. We didn't see his footsteps in the mud at the White Pass trailhead. He completely disappeared into the woods seamlessly.

Had I not been hiking alone, I'm not sure what would have happened, or what the man and his jangling backpack ultimately wanted from me. At White Pass, I was creeped out enough that I decided to report the encounter to the U.S. Forest Service Ranger via the phone. The Ranger remarked to me, oh, fuck, uh, yeah. So it was not just me who found this weird. We also reported his appearance and the encounter to the cracker barrel should any other hikers meet him or should he approach the gas station. To this day, I've tried to find out more information about this man. Perhaps he was just a weird man overly interested in missing persons cases. But how close he got to me was definitely not normal. and him sprinting away from my male hiking partner was also not normal.

What was in his strange backpack? My instincts tell me, even now, that he was dangerous and that I narrowly missed a potentially worse encounter. I am, shall we say, a feisty short person with a Napoleon complex. I wish I had threatened him more, but my instincts told me to be calm and to placate his stories, which I did. I now threw hike with either bear spray or a large fog-style pepper spray for my overall comfort.

I do not wish to dissuade people from solo hiking outside. Stories like this are the exception, not the norm. I continued along the rest of the 1700 miles I had on the PCT without further incident, going on later to solo hike the entire continental divide in 2025, which is even more remote. I think a lot of people who are conditioned to think that women should not travel alone, and this could not be further from the truth. However, sometimes you do have an odd creep here or there, impacting people no matter their gender identity. My takeaway from this story is, always, always trust.

your instincts. Trust them no matter what. Maybe consider carrying some type of spray if it brings you peace of mind and always watch your back. For you never know who might be chasing it smelling your stinky hiking hair. Anna. I hate how close he was the whole time you were hiking. I think that he was purposely crossing a physical boundary, it sounds like, unless he just had some just truly didn't understand social cues. But I mean, I think that your instincts were totally on par and that something was wrong there. And I think also your instincts that told you to play nice and entertain him was also a survival mechanism that kept you safe. So I think that you did everything right in that situation. And I also really loved that you advocate for women to hike solo. I hike solo all the

time and I love it and I just I hate experiences like this but I agree that it's not the norm. Yeah. I mean, I have had I think one experience where I was a little weirded out on a trail and that was it so far. So and I've done many solo hikes. So I do think carrying something with you for protection. I always say if where you are allowed bear spray, just keep it even if you don't have grizzlies in your area. Just throw some bear spray. It's going to get it's going to take care of whoever's bothering you. Yeah. I hate that my first, and I know this is a problem, but my first reaction, you kind of touched on it when you said maybe this person just didn't understand social cues. And my first reaction to something like this, not just this story in particular, but this

type of scenario, is giving the benefit of the doubt and saying, oh, they certainly couldn't have poor intentions. Maybe there's just something, yeah, maybe there's something. Yeah, maybe there's something off, but that doesn't mean that this person has evil intentions and I shouldn't be generalizing because this is a man that he wishes me harm and, you know, things like that. But you know what? I think that there's this pressure to not feel to try and be like, no, they couldn't mean harm. And maybe they truly didn't. But your survival and safety depends on you having these defenses up.

And there's a reason that we have instincts. And it goes, I mean, you have instincts. you have survival instincts. And when there are alarms in your body that are saying, like, danger, danger, danger, I think that women are taught so much to be polite. And to be like, oh, you know, maybe like this is weird, but they just don't realize, like be polite, be nice. Like, don't make them feel uncomfortable.

Like, we're taught so much that to make sure that other people feel comfortable around you that I think it's so easy for us to be like, oh, no, like, this is fine. But if you have alarm bells going off in your brain of like, this is wrong, this is danger, don't shove those away. Like keep those, stay on high alert. Do whatever you need to do to get out of that situation and whatever you need to do to be safe. And I just think like, who cares if you're rude? Who cares if that person goes home that night and is like, wow, that person was a weirdo. Who cares? You're safe. I'm sorry. I thought you're going to kill me. Yeah. Yeah. Like, it's like, you know what? Maybe you misconstrued the situation. I don't think that was the

case in the story at all. But in situations, like, worse comes to worse, you misconstrued it, but you're still alive and you're right. And the right people, you know, would understand that. Yeah. And wouldn't take personal offense to that. I mean, I've said it before, but I remember going through just things after Ian passed away and a lot of his things. And on his phone, I was transferring all his photos onto the cloud or wherever.

Yeah. Backing them up. And he had a screenshot of instructions of how to. if a woman has headphones on or earbuds in, how to respectfully and politely approach her without scaring her. That's like the most wholesome. Ian. It's like you're the most wholesome, sweet human being.

I know. It was just like, yeah. So and all that to say, you know, people are aware that women are scared. Solo women who are out on their own have their guard up for a reason. and, you know, they'll understand. Don't ask them if they're alone, if anyone's coming for them soon. I've never asked anyone if they're alone ever. Yeah, I've never been on a trail and seen someone and been like, are you hiking alone out here?

Maybe I should start doing that. Maybe women should start intimidating men. Next time a solo woman sees a solo man on the trail. You should be like, it's kind of dangerous out here to be by yourself, don't you think? And then just keep walking. You know that there's so many bodies around here, potentially? You know how easy it would be to hide. a body out here. Maybe that's what women should do to, so you're scaring the men away.

I've always been taught to act absolutely fucking insane if anyone tries to do anything to me. I always see those videos online and it's like me walking home in the city by myself at night. And they're just like, totally. You're being crazy. Yeah. Totally crazy. Yeah. You have another story.

I do. This episode's going to be so long. Apologies. It's so long. 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. Okay. Well, we're kind of on a theme here because mine is titled Small Town Legends, Small Town Serial Killer.

Hello, you can call me Essie. I only recently discover your podcast, first on YouTube, now on Spotify, and I've been making my way through your backlog. I absolutely love it. You both are amazing storytellers. My story takes place on the Colonial Parkway, which is a National Historic Park in Virginia that connects Williamsburg, Jamestown, and Yorktown. I say my story, but it's my mom's.

It's the true crime story that first got me into true crime since it was her recollection of surviving a serial killer. The Colonial Parkway murders were a series of murders that occurred in the 1980s. The only figure, who was the most likely suspect, was in 2024 based on DNA evidence, but it still remains uncertain. The victims were pairs, teenagers, to young adults. One of the pairs was never found, but their vehicle was located at a rest stop on Interstate 64. They've been expanding I-64 since around 2012, and there were rumors that bodies were found, but I have yet to find anything on news websites corroborating gossip of the old ladies from my hometown, Yorktown, Virginia.

The suspected M.O. of the murderer was to pull over his victims, likely imitating a park ranger or state trooper, in what appeared to be an unmarked law enforcement vehicle. There were stories of folks in groups or alone who were pulled over in such a situation, but were allowed to go. Now, those could have been legitimate interactions with law enforcement, but investigators had little to go on at the time. Which brings us to my mom's story. She was in graduate school in Williamsburg, and she and her boyfriend at the time were driving home to Yorktown. Her encounter happened in shortly before the last victims, Anna Maria Phelps and Daniel Lauer were reported missing. My mom and her boyfriend had borrowed a mutual friend's car and had laundry in the back.

My mom's boyfriend was bringing laundry to use her washing machine over the weekend. mom swears up and down, she was going under the speed limit. It was in the middle of the night, and beyond the threat of a serial killer, there was a threat of deer running out in front of unsuspecting speeders. Locals tried not to speed at night on the back roads, including my mom. She swears her speedometer did not go over 35 miles per hour. The speed limit was 45 miles per hour where they were pulled over by a vehicle flashing its lights. My mom immediately panicked. Her boyfriend, will call him Rick, in an effort to calm her down, turn around to report whether it was park rangers or troopers, except instead he

stated, shit, it's unmarked. A man my mom described years later as stout and scruffy wearing tan and who stood mostly out of sight of where she could see him through the driver's side window. The man asked for license and registration and Rick asked why. My mom at this point was frozen. The man outside the car cited speeding, but Rick retorted she was going 35. The man on the outside of the car said that either the boyfriend was lying or the speedometer was lying and they would both need to get out of the car. At this point, my mom was weighing the risk of just evading, speeding down the road and taking the first turn off the parkway, which would have led to town and eventually the county sheriff's office. But likely, as all the other victims had,

she was convinced this man was law enforcement. Finally, she managed to stammer out. Can I see her badge? The man outside the car slammed his hand on the roof of the car and shouted for them to get out of the car or he'd get them for more than just speeding and lying to a cop. Hey, are we there yet? A voice came from the backseat and a figure sat up from the pile of clothes. The voice belonging to the friend who owned the vehicle, yawned and asked, why have we stopped? Suddenly, where the cop had just been belligerent and irate, he was dead silent.

The reason my mom was driving her friend's car was because her friend, we'll call him John, and her boyfriend, were too drunk to drive home and my mom lived in the same apartment and complex as John. They were all headed home from a party. John had fallen asleep in the backseat, and the hit to his car had woken him up. My mom would tell me the silence lasted forever. The man outside the car broke it with an abrupt gruff and just said, get out of here. And he walked back to the car. My mom did not wait for him to get back to the car before she sped off and took the first turn off the parkway. John told her to go to his parents' house, which was not too far from the turn off from where my mom took. He was partially concerned the man would follow them,

but he also wanted to tell his dad, the county sheriff, what had happened. After that night, my mom refused to drive in the parkway at any time that would put her on the road at night, and for a while would avoid it during the day, opting to take I-64. Fast forward 20 years, and she still refused to take back roads at night, telling her daughter, me, that sometimes there are monsters in the dark. For a long time, Gloucester County Virginia law enforcement officer, I think Sheriff's deputy was suspected of the murders due to his insistence with being involved in the investigation, even when the FBI became involved.

Some viewed him as an advocate for the families, but eventually even the families became uncomfortable with his constant interference. A friend of my family, who was the park superintendent for the area, tried to have him arrested a few times. I think his name was Atwell or Aftwell. He was eventually arrested on unrelated tax convictions. Both he and the suspect they currently pin the murders to are both dead of old age. So whatever information they could provide us is lost to the ether. Thank you for considering my story. Keep your eyes on the parkway.

And remember, when in doubt, call 911 or your local state line, Virginia is 711, to confirm the unmarked car trying to pull you over in a remote area is, in fact, law enforcement. I mean, that's a lesson I learned as soon as I got my license. My stepdad was like, you know, even if they have lights going, but you can't distinguish anything else on their vehicle that's, you know, clearly showing that their law enforcement. Keep driving. Put on your hazards so they know that you recognize it. Just put on your hazards and keep going until you're at a well-lit place that's, you know, populated. Yeah. With other people if you feel uncomfortable because they'll understand. Again, they'll understand.

Yeah. Yeah. It's scary. to think that people and do that because I personally like I wouldn't like if I was in that car and I was driving down the road and it was at night and lights flash I would be like oh pull over you know like you don't think it's just like a police car comes behind you they flash your lights you pull over it's a normal thing but to ask for their badge number I think is really brave because I've never asked a police officer that who has pulled me over not a single time so I think that that's really brave But the way that this person was acting was very sketchy. Yeah.

To just like, I don't know. And again, they get out of the car to not give you their badge number. Police officers do have to give you their badge number and do have to identify themselves as law enforcement. So, and that's not a problem either. To get so. I agree. Over someone who's not speeding. Yeah.

Yeah. And asking very valid questions that pertain to the situation. Yeah. Yeah, I don't know what was going on there if it was the same. Obviously, like, we can never know now if it was the same person. Although I'd be curious if your mom saw a picture, if she could recognize if either of these people were the person that she had an interaction with. But I also know in the story they said that they could barely see at night and they were specifically standing in a spot that made it difficult to see them. Yeah. So maybe. It would be tough. Yeah. Yeah. If you. feels like this person was not. I have never been pulled over by a police officer who was like, never mind, I don't need your registration or license. Just go. Like I've had, I've been pulled over where they've been like, license and registration. I hand it to them and they're like, you're free to go. Like, try to watch. After they go back and check you. Right. Not like in the middle of your interaction

of like you questioning if they're law enforcement. And then I've never questioned an officer if they were law enforcement or not. But yeah, I don't know. I agree. That situation sounds very. I didn't even tell you yesterday. I had the craziest Uber driver and experience of my life. You would have like scary. Yeah. Scary coming back from Boston. And this all reminds me because this person flew past three. And I've never seen anything like it. It must have been a speed trap. But it was right when we got out over into the New Hampshire line coming back from Boston. And there were three state troopers all in a row that had pulled people over within only a few yards separating them. It wasn't three troopers on one individual. It was three separate

instances. And my Uber driver, who was recklessly driving, flew past them and didn't move over. and of course there's a move over law you have to move over for any sort of law enforcement or construction anything you need to move over yeah and he didn't and immediately he got pulled over by another state trooper yep and he was and this is this is a long story I'm not even going to tell it all on the podcast I'll tell you after but essentially the state trooper came up to the passenger side because we are on the highway yeah and he was pissed he was pissed he was pissed. Yeah. He's like, you could have. It's really dangerous. It's really dangerous. And the Uber driver was he had shared things with me about how he's probably a questionable person. And he was

like spinning yarn trying to basically talk his way out of things. And he turned to me. He's like, we were in the middle of a conversation though. Like I didn't like, he was trying to involve me. And he's like, and so he's basically giving this officer all these excuses. And the officer's like, I'm going to stop you right there. I don't care what you were. talking about. If you hit and killed me, what are you going to tell of my family that you were talking and sorry, I killed your son because you were in the middle of a conversation. I don't care about any of that. Like, he was just so, I'm like, good on you. Because I did not like my, like, I'm not trying to talk shit, but that was a really scary situation. I can't even believe I

didn't tell you. Yes. And he shared information with you that he was a questionable person. Yeah. What? Like stabbing people and. having. What are you talking about? Did you review this person or flag them? No, not yet. You have to. Oh my God. That's what? I know this guy's entire life story, Cassie. I can recite it to you right now. See, I've always thought that whenever you take Uber's to the airport and you're in an Uber with them for so long, I just, I've always thought that that's scary. And of course, there was traffic. I always stock your location because I, whenever you're like, I'm in a bus. because I always take the bus to the Boston airport and you always take an Uber. And whenever I'm on the bus, I always look at your location to make sure like you're still coming.

And it's so funny and ironic because the first thing I thought of when I got to the airport was for the first time in my life, I thought of you and was like, I should check the bus schedule to see if I can just take a bus up to. They're so safe and they're so nice. The bus drivers are so nice. But I was, I know, but there wasn't another bus for an hour. in 15 minutes and then it was going to put me at almost 5 p.m. Boston traffic. So I was like, whatever. I mean, I've taken an Uber all these times. It was just so ironic that the one time I had the thought of, hmm, maybe I should not do this. I had the wildest experience. We almost got into so many car accidents. He was talking to me the whole time and sharing things about his life that are

just not. You shouldn't be advertising to somebody that you just met five minutes ago. But you have trapped in your car. Yep. And of course there's traffic. They did just change it so you can make it so you can only have a female. You can request only female drivers now on Uber. I saw that. And it was such a because my Uber driver from Durango, my Durango hotel to the Durango airport

that morning was a woman so sweet. She's probably a listener now because we talked about the podcast. She was so nice. It was like such a lovely experience. It was 3 a.m. It was so early. I was expecting to just have a nonverbal ride, but she was so sweet. And then I have this other experience that's like the total opposite of the spectrum.

I'm like, I just want to go home. I just want to go home. Yeah. In one piece, please. Oh, my God. I have, I had one really, really bad Uber experience that has kind of. And it could, I think it was Uber, but it could have been any of those ride share apps, like, Lyft or whatever.

Yeah. I remember I was going to the Boston airport. and I decided to do the ride share one where they pick up someone else because it was cheaper to do that. And I was like, oh, someone else going to the airport, we can share a car. They like split the fare. I was like, it's cheaper. I was super broke. I was just like, yeah, that totally makes sense.

I'll never do that again. This person, it's super early in the morning, I think. I don't know. This was years ago. I think it was in the morning. But anyway, we get to this. He picks me up first and then he goes to this other location and there's this guy. It was mourning because he was very inebriated.

And I was like, why is this guy so hammered? And he gets there and he's like, yeah, you're supposed to be bringing my girlfriend to me, not picking me up to go to my girlfriend. Oh, the other passenger. For a second, I thought you might your driver. I'm like, no, no, no, the other passenger got there. And he's like, no, you were supposed to bring my girlfriend to me, not pick me up to bring me to my girlfriend. And he's like, oh, well, this is what you requested.

This is where we're going. And he's like, okay, we'll just do it. it and he gets in the car. He's very clearly intoxicated. And he's like going on. He's talking and talking. He's like on the phone with his girlfriend. She's like yelling at him and hanging up on him and all this stuff. And it's like this weird thing. He's friendly at first. And I'm like, okay, everything vibes are fine. I guess. This is weird. And then suddenly like something switched in this guy. He started getting really angry. And he started yelling at the Uber driver. And I'm just in the backseat. This guy's in the front with him. He starts yelling at the Uber driver because he's like, you have to bring

me to my girlfriend. Like my girlfriend is somewhere else now. And he was like, I clearly have another passenger in the car. I can bring you to the location you asked me for. But like now you're asking me to go across town and to bring you back to your place. Like I can't do that. She has to go to the airport. And I'm just saying they're totally silent in the back. He starts yelling at him, like, starts hitting the front of his car and like getting really verbal. He pulls over and And he's like, okay, I'm just going to let you out here. Yeah. Is this?

And so he's like, fine. Like, fuck you. And he gets out of the car. And then he left his phone in the car. So the guy, like, rolls the window down and he's like, hey, you forgot your phone after he gets out. And he turns around. And he's like, yeah, like, says some like angry words to him again, grabs the phone, turns around. And he's like, and you know what?

And he turns around to fucking grab the door and like start fighting him. Like, and the guy lock the door the very last second. he's like swinging his arms to try to grab this guy and he takes off in the Uber. And you're just sitting in the back. And I was just like, I was silent. I was just silent in the back. I'm like, what the fuck is going on? I don't know.

And I have a one star rating on Uber. And I always wonder, I have one one star. And I wonder if it's from that ride, like if we shared a rating. Because I'm like, who else would give me one star? Like, unless I had like a really drunken night, I don't remember. was being just an absolute terror in a car one night. But that I have, when you look at my rating, it's lower because I don't have a lot of Uber rides on it. Yeah. But I have a one star and I can't see like why or where it came from. Yeah. I would bet that if that's is how it operates that you had that

shared rating, that's for sure where it came from. Yeah. That's scary. At least you were in it together though. You know, it wasn't like a one-on-one. Yeah, the Uber driver wasn't scary. He was super nice. Yeah. He was like, you got out of the car and he got away. He's like, so to the airport. I was like, yes, please. Like, please. And then I got to the airport and I was like, I'm never taking an Uber again. Never. You do. Shoot me looks when we're in Uber's. If anything goes. Every time. Slightly wrong or there's a weird vibe or something happened. You always give me the death stare. It's like, I can do this. Colorado.

There's something going on in Denver because every single Uber we have been in Colorado, they, even if the people are super nice, they drive insane. I'm like, why are we going 80 and a 40? Why did we almost just hit four different cars? Why did we just blow through a red light? Like, it's just like the entire time we're ever in an Uber in Denver, I fear from my life. I know. I'll just walk.

I'll just walk, honestly. I don't mean. You're a big fan of public transportation for the. reasons that you've just outlined. And I understand. And after the Uber ride that I experienced yesterday, I, yeah, I'm kind of on that same. I know it is a one-off. And the guy, I don't know. It just, there's so much to talk about with that. But anyway, okay. I can't wait to learn more. Let's all right. Well, let's finish this episode because we've been here for a long time. And outsiders, we do have two more stories for you. Mine is titled Mama Bear versus Minnie.

Bear. Mine is titled A Mysterious Melody in the Redwoods. Okay. So if you somehow want to hear us talk, even more, which feels strange because I feel like this is the most I've talked on an episode in a really long time. Come on over. We'll see you on subscription stuff. Everybody else who's had just about enough, totally understand, and we'll see you next week. In the meantime. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch you're back. Bye, everyone. Bye. Thank you for joining us again this week.

If you have a trail tale of your own you'd like to share, you can write to us at NPAD Stories at gmail.com or visit our website at 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,

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