View Full Version : Boo - trail tales
So in the spirit of Halloween I thought I would start a thread on scary,weird, unusual trail stories can be from anywhere in the woods. One of mine is I was section hiking south va. On the AT. And it was Halloween week and actually Halloween day I was hiking along beautiful fall day and there in the middle of the trail was a fox squirrel with his head gone . Ok what the hell, so I continue on and couple hours later there was a rabbit in the middle of the trail without a head. Alright this is some real Stephen king, ozzy Osbourne crazy stuff here . When I get back home a hunting buddy told me it was probably a hawk or eagle.
NY HIKER 50
10-25-2019, 22:45
Bin there done that. I've put much scary stories in these threads over the years and I'm not typing more. It probably was a hawk or a bobcat. They usually tear off heads and come back later. Not scary enough for me. I've had the real deals.
Bin there done that. I've put much scary stories in these threads over the years and I'm not typing more. It probably was a hawk or a bobcat. They usually tear off heads and come back later. Not scary enough for me. I've had the real deals.
Don't tell me you had your head taken off by a bobcat or a hawk!! That would be a scary deal..
Sarcasm the elf
10-25-2019, 23:21
So in the spirit of Halloween I thought I would start a thread on scary,weird, unusual trail stories can be from anywhere in the woods. One of mine is I was section hiking south va. On the AT. And it was Halloween week and actually Halloween day I was hiking along beautiful fall day and there in the middle of the trail was a fox squirrel with his head gone . Ok what the hell, so I continue on and couple hours later there was a rabbit in the middle of the trail without a head. Alright this is some real Stephen king, ozzy Osbourne crazy stuff here . When I get back home a hunting buddy told me it was probably a hawk or eagle.
We’ve had a few good threads like this over the years, I’ll see how many I can dig up. Here’s one to start:
https://whiteblaze.net/forum/showthread.php/114727-Ghost-Stories-Folklore-welcomed?highlight=
(P.S. NY Hiker 50 gave the exact same response last year. :D )
Yes thanks that's the kind of stuff I'm looking for.
Sarcasm the elf
10-25-2019, 23:40
Another:
https://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/showthread.php/100081-Strangest-Encounter-on-a-Trail
Sarcasm the elf
10-25-2019, 23:44
Here’s one I hadn’t even seen before:
https://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/showthread.php/2973-Haunted-Places-on-the-AT
Sarcasm the elf
10-26-2019, 00:07
One more cool thread I just found, this one about the Bennington VT area
where I had some weird experiences on trail as well.
https://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/showthread.php/77680-The-Haunting-of-Glastenbury-Vermont
Edit to add that the same stories Chaco Taco tells are covered in this episode of the podcast “Lore”
https://www.lorepodcast.com/episodes/67
One more cool thread I just found, this one about the Bennington VT area
where I had some weird experiences on trail as well.
https://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/showthread.php/77680-The-Haunting-of-Glastenbury-Vermont
Edit to add that the same stories Chaco Taco tells are covered in this episode of the podcast “Lore”
https://www.lorepodcast.com/episodes/67
Wow, I love a good spooky story apparently there's has been lots of good ones told over the years. Thanks for putting those links up sarcasm. I'll read the rest later, heading to work.
Yeah I agree people there has been enough weird, unusual,scary stories on the trails this year.
Nolan "Guido" Jordan
10-26-2019, 22:03
I stayed in the campground at Cades Cove one Halloween night with my youth group. My whole group was supposed to come, but the weather showed snow in the forecast. So probably only about a dozen people came out of 30-40. It had been raining all day long, then it was supposed to snow all night long. Me and my dad came anyway since we liked to rough it. The heavy snow overnight toppled our tent over twice. The scariest part was the sound of falling trees in the forest all night long. I couldn't sleep at all. It was just really creepy.
NY HIKER 50
10-26-2019, 22:33
Don't tell me you had your head taken off by a bobcat or a hawk!! That would be a scary deal..
ever hear of the "headless hiker"?
NY HIKER 50
10-26-2019, 22:34
We’ve had a few good threads like this over the years, I’ll see how many I can dig up. Here’s one to start:
https://whiteblaze.net/forum/showthread.php/114727-Ghost-Stories-Folklore-welcomed?highlight=
(P.S. NY Hiker 50 gave the exact same response last year. :D )
No kidding. There's nothing new under the sun.
NY HIKER 50
10-26-2019, 22:43
The only stories that scare me are the one's about the real people rather than the ghosts. real incidents have happened and those are the one's that should be told around a campfire. Oh well, at least those won't creep up on you.
Hatchet_1697
10-27-2019, 00:17
Yellow Springs Campsite PA, AT mile 1173.3 NOBO
Apparently this site is haunted...
During a section hike an old-timer from Indiantown Gap told us during the French and Indian War (1700’s) militia stumbled on a Susquehannock family and slaughtered them in retaliation for earlier attacks on a settlement. A brave returning from a hunt found his wife, sister, father, and 3 children lying dead in pools of their own blood.
In his grief and rage he tracked the militia to the site we now call the Yellow Springs campsite.
That night, after the group had fallen asleep, the brave snuck into camp and slit the throats of eight sleeping militiamen before a ninth woke, yelled, and was killed by a tomahawk blow to the head. A tenth man awoke and fought back but was knocked unconscious. As the brave was scalping the dead and dying men who had murdered his family, the unconscious man came to and shot the Indian brave dead — depriving him of his revenge.
The man lived to tell the tale. ...and to this day, the grieving spirit of the brave, still seeking his revenge, haunts the site we now call Yellow Springs.
We didn’t see a ghost there, and survived the night, but that’s one hell of a story to think about during the night...
Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk Pro
I stayed in the campground at Cades Cove one Halloween night with my youth group. My whole group was supposed to come, but the weather showed snow in the forecast. So probably only about a dozen people came out of 30-40. It had been raining all day long, then it was supposed to snow all night long. Me and my dad came anyway since we liked to rough it. The heavy snow overnight toppled our tent over twice. The scariest part was the sound of falling trees in the forest all night long. I couldn't sleep at all. It was just really creepy.
I've been in those conditions and yes very creepy hearing all that going on right outside your tent. Good one.
ever hear of the "headless hiker"?
Now that would make a good story, if only I knew a way to get hold of Steven king.
Yellow Springs Campsite PA, AT mile 1173.3 NOBO
Apparently this site is haunted...
During a section hike an old-timer from Indiantown Gap told us during the French and Indian War (1700’s) militia stumbled on a Susquehannock family and slaughtered them in retaliation for earlier attacks on a settlement. A brave returning from a hunt found his wife, sister, father, and 3 children lying dead in pools of their own blood.
In his grief and rage he tracked the militia to the site we now call the Yellow Springs campsite.
That night, after the group had fallen asleep, the brave snuck into camp and slit the throats of eight sleeping militiamen before a ninth woke, yelled, and was killed by a tomahawk blow to the head. A tenth man awoke and fought back but was knocked unconscious. As the brave was scalping the dead and dying men who had murdered his family, the unconscious man came to and shot the Indian brave dead — depriving him of his revenge.
The man lived to tell the tale. ...and to this day, the grieving spirit of the brave, still seeking his revenge, haunts the site we now call Yellow Springs.
We didn’t see a ghost there, and survived the night, but that’s one hell of a story to think about during the night...
Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk Pro
That's a good campfire story. And makes it super creepy it's true I think. I live not to far from antietam battle fields the bloodiest day of the civil war alot of that kind of history around here and ghost stories that come with it.
Ok so I have another section hike story. All true non fiction central va. hiking the end of a long day and I come to cow camp shelter almost exactly 1 year after a hiker was strangled to death in the shelter and I don't think they ever found the murder. Didn't stay in the shelter and I was hoping someone else would come along, I usually like being alone, no one did. So I made it through the night and the next morning walking around camp/ shelter picnic table pondering why a hiker would strangle another hiker deep in thought so quite you could hear a squirrel fart and all of sudden 2 f‐18 fighter jets wing tip to wing tip , tree top level full bore flew by wow I hit the ground like I was being bombed. I think I had to get the baby wipes.
They say a troll lives at the Cloud Pond lean to in the 100MW. It was unusually cold there and in the middle of the night, my hiking partner said he heard a voice call out to him.
Okay so I made this story up while hiking in the Shanendoahs and have fleshed it out a little. Would be happy for it to become a creepy pasta for hikers!
Two hikers were making their way through the smoky mountains and were looking for a good spot to get water and make camp. The sun had gone down a while ago and the forest was dark and silent around them. As they turned the next corner, the hikers spotted a campfire a ways off the trail.
“Must be some stealth campers” said the first hiker. “Do you think they might know where to get water?” wondered the other. It was getting quite late so they decided to go see who was at the campfire and ask about water.
As they approached, the hikers saw two men cooking with a pot and a grate over the fire. There were a couple of jugs near them and they could see a clothesline hung by some very old looking tents drying a pair of wool socks and trousers. A twig snapped and the men looked up from their meal. In the dim light, the hikers could see that these men were not in the forest for the same reason they were; they were old and dressed in dingy overalls and had heavy leather boots on. They both had long, silver beards and their faces were sallow. They seemed like hermits but the outline of a large barrel and several buckets in the opposite corner of the camp gave away what they were actually doing. They were moonshiners.
The moonshiners were surprised to see the hikers but did not move. The hikers looked at each other, and then the first one stepped forward. “Hi. My name is Light Foot and this is Black Jack”, he said motioning towards his companion. “We are thru hiking and were looking for a spot to get water and make camp when we saw your fire. Is there a stream nearby?”
The two old men looked at each other and then looked back at Light Foot and Black Jack. They didn’t say anything. A little uneasy now, Light Foot went on. “We don’t want any trouble fellas, we’re just tired and were hoping you could point us in the right direction but we’ll leave you alone.” Light Foot turned away from the old men. “C’mon Black Jack, let’s keep moving”.
The hikers were about to take their leave when one of the moonshiners spoke up with a deep voice, hoarse as though he rarely said anything. “The stream we get our water from is just over yonder”. Light Foot turned back to see where the old man was talking about. He was pointing towards a path, which lead past the moonshine equipment. Light Foot looked at Black Jack who just shrugged in an “I dunno” kind of way.
“A-alright,” Light Foot stammered. “Thanks. We’ll go check it out”. The two hikers passed the fire; the old men just stared at them as they headed for the path. Just a few steps in the woods, the light from the campfire was already fading and Light Foot thought to ask a question. He turned around. “Hey, does this path meet back up with the trail?” but the two old men were gone. “They must’ve gone to bed”, said Black Jack. “Let’s just get our water and get out of here. It has to be good stuff if they’re making shine with it.”
The pair continued down the path; their headlamps dimly lit the way. After some time, they could hear the trickle of a stream and then they came to a clearing of sorts. “Nice!” exclaimed Black Jack as he pulled his bottle and filter from his pack. “Finally!” said Light Foot with a breath of relief. He started to get his filter out when he spotted something that gave him a start.
“Oh yeah, this tastes great!” Black Jack said as he took a much needed sip of water. “Shhh!” Light Foot put a hand up in a motion to stop and pointed to the far end of the clearing. “Look”, he whispered.
There was the outline of a tent. Now this was different from what the old men had set up. It was clearly a modern tent; one that was strikingly similar to their own. “Looks like there’s someone camping here already.” Just as the words left Light Foot’s lips, a small flicker of light came from within the tent. It looked like the flick of a lighter.
“Oh! They must be awake still”, whispered Black Jack. “Hopefully they don’t mind company. This is a great spot!” Light Foot looked around. Black Jack wasn’t wrong. It was a good, flat area and the ground was mossy and soft from the nearby stream. “Well, let me make sure it’s okay”, Light Foot said.
He approached the tent slowly. As he got closer he could see that it was the same popular model that most thrus had been using that season. This tent had clearly been put through the ringer though. Light Foot could see that there was actually some damage to it and the pitch was saggy as if one of the poles had failed. The vestibule flap was unhooked and he could see that the entry way was partially open as well. Black Jack walked over to join his friend and felt his foot hit a stake. He went to pick it up; it was rusty and caked with dirt.
Hey, Light Foot!” he said, holding up the stake. Light Foot shushed Black Jack again and beckoned for him to come closer. “I think this is an abandoned tent”, Light Foot whispered. He knelt down to look inside. He was met with the musty smell of wet fabric. The items had obviously been there for a while. Black Jack pulled a lighter out, since they had both left their packs and headlamps by the stream. They could now see that there were two sleeping bags in the tent; nice ones. At least they had been nice at one time. They must have been there for at least a year. There were leaves and signs of animal activity in the tent.
“Wow! Whispered Black Jack. Who would leave these here!?” I paid like 400 bucks for mine!” He reached out and yanked on one of the bags to pull it out but stopped suddenly when he felt that the bag was far heavier than it should be if it was empty. The two friends looked at each other, fear painted across their faces. Black Jack and Light Foot had met while ridge running and were no strangers to the sorts of things that can be found in the woods. They knew it was their duty to report anything they found while on their hike and, though they were both scared, this time was no different. They both crouched down further to scoot in just enough to check both bags.
“Both at the same time, okay?” Said Light Foot. “Okay”, replied Black Jack. Holding their breath, they pulled back the tops of the sleeping bags to reveal two desiccated but definitely familiar faces. It was them. They tried to scream but nothing came out. Light Foot and Black Jack crawled quickly out of the tent entry way, in shock. They got up to run back to the stream and their packs but as they turned around, there were the two old moonshiners.
The one who had spoken before said “You drank from the stream again didntchya?” in a firm and angry voice. He raised a gnarly hand and placed it on Black Jack’s face. Light came out of the old man’s eyes and Black Jack’s face twisted into a ghastly, but silent cream. They were both enveloped in darkness and disappeared.
“Black Jack!? Black Jack!!” Cried Light Foot. “Where is he!?” he demanded of the remaining moonshiner but the old man only pointed at the tent in the distance. “No! This can’t be!” Light Foot sobbed. He curled into a ball and began to rock, eyes shut tight. He could hear the footsteps of the old man as he walked away. Leaving Light Foot alone in the dark. After some time he crawled back to the tent, finding Black Jack’s lighter on the ground. He took it and sat in the corner of the tent. Flicking the lighter in a mad trance as he rocked back and forth and that is where he stayed, waiting endlessly for his friend to come back to the stream.