I will never go solo camping again…
Hey, I’ve always been big into camping and the outdoors, going camping with my father about once a month since I was about 6. Anyway, i recently turned 19 and passed my driving test (finally) and decided it was time for my first solo camping trip. Just as a note, I live in a small country so there is barely any stories about Bigfoot, skinwalkers, wendigos etc. so naturally I grew up skeptical as no one around me had had many creepy encounters. Anyway I decided to go camping in the mountain range in the southeast of the country , beautiful part of the country. Anyway it was about a 3 and a half hour drive to the carpark I had marked off on google maps and when I got there I unpacked my gear and began the hike up the mountains to find a place with a beautiful view to set up camp. (I arrived at the carpark around 4:30 PM for context so it was still light outside when I began my hike).
Eventually after hiking until about 8:30-9 I found a beautiful spot just off the trail, keep in mind I only saw 4 other people on my hike up and they were both couples and walking back in the direction of the carpark so naturally I expected no other people to be up on the mountain considering it was getting late. Anyway I had my camp set up around 9:30 maybe and began to collect firewood (mostly thin little sticks but anything dry would do) and I lit my campfire and began to cook a burger and read. After about 45 mins the sun went down so I decided it was time to indulge in the beers I brought with me.
After 4-5 beers I started to feel pretty tired so decided I would go into my tent and read my book for a while under the light of my headlamp. After a while I dozed off (can’t really remember what time maybe around 10:30-11) and woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat for no apparent reason and my heart was beating out of my chest. I had never felt this feeling before, almost dread/uncontrollable fear. I tried to brush it off by saying to myself that I was just paranoid because it was my first time solo camping. That’s when I heard it. My father’s voice.
What. The. Fuck. “Hey, hey just thought I’d come out and check on you!” What. The. Fuck. By this point I was absolutely petrified and had 0 intention of answering whatever this thing was or leaving my tent. That’s when it spoke again “how about you come out your tent and talk to me?” Fuck. It could see my tent. Then I began to hear an almost more terrifying sound, the sound of dragging. Almost like someone dragging their body across the brush. I was shaking with fear as I heard it get closer and closer until I was certain it was right behind my head on the other side of the tent.
I genuinely thought it was gonna be the end of me. I had to have passed out at some point from pure terror and woke at 7:30. I almost thought the night before was a nightmare until I looked down at the bottom of the tent. It was fucking open. And what else did I see? Scratches all over my legs. It had got into my tent. I jumped out the tent absolutely terrified and searched around. I went behind the tent and then I seen it. Drag marks. From the woods behind me right up to the back of my tent where my head was. Fuck this. I packed up my camp in absolute record time and sprinted down the mountain, making it back to my car by 9 AM.
I sped home in absolute silence, no radio, no nothing. Just thinking of possible explanations for the night before, maybe it was a fox? No, foxes scream/squeal, not talk, especially in my father’s voice. When I got home my parents instantly realised something was wrong and asked what happened. I told them and they believed me, thank god. The last thing I wanted was for them to think I’m crazy. I have been camping since but I made sure my father tagged along with me.