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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/1morey on 2024-09-21 04:24:59+00:00.
This is my personal account of an incident that occurred in Alaska back in 2019. I haven't spoken of this incident to anyone but my therapist and my best friend. Despite many sessions, and even attempts of exposure therapy (which I will explain later), this event still haunts me. Maybe if I post this here, I can gain some semblance of peace.
So, like I said, it was 2019, I was twenty-five at the time. I had been saving up money to do on some backcountry camping up in Alaska. I live on the East Coast, and while my job was paying alright, I was taking up some under the table jobs (house painting, housesitting, petsitting, and what-have-you) to help me out financially for the trip. I also had a friend set me up with their uncle who is a bush pilot to handle getting me to and from my camping location.
This was my first and biggest mistake. Now, I had very little experience with camping outside of occasional weekend camping at state parks, and I did some camping excursions (nothing super challenging) when I was in Boy Scouts. But my friend's uncle, Mark, knew some good spots that were remote to an extent, but easy to get to in the event of an emergency, by bush plane standards, that is. So yeah, no trekking to the nearest highway or road, unless I wanted to walk for a day or so through rugged terrain.
My parents helped me out with getting me some emergency supplies (food/hydration packs, first-aid kit, bear spray, etc.) Mark loaned me a spare rifle of his, in case I would need it. Even though I was a non-resident, I could still carry a firearm under state law. I've hunted before when I was a teen, so I had experience in that regard, plus I didn't have to worry about the hassle of transporting a firearm and dealing with airport regulations. Mark also hooked me up with a satellite phone as well, so my cell phone was going to be nothing more than a camera. I didn't have the money for a good camera for photography or anything, so I had to make due.
The plan was to be dropped off at where I was camping, camp out for five days, and be picked up on day six. I didn't want to use up all two weeks of my allotted PTO at work, so I kept the trip condensed.
Because this was my first time out, Mark helped me pick out a site, based on his recommendations. The spot he chose wasn't one he went to often, as he typically flew in hunters and anglers who typically were going to areas with more rugged terrain. It was relatively flat, not a lot of dense forests, maybe some patches here and there further in, and my campsite was going to be set up near a small lake with a good view of some mountains in the distance.
Now, I'm sure a lot of people would like to know where I was specifically, but Mark no longer takes people to that location, regardless of their experience or not, and he no longer does fly-ins for anyone who isn't a hunter. It hurt his business a bit, because fishing is so popular in Alaska, but he ended up retiring altogether due to COVID the following year.
As for why I won't mention the location, as far as I am aware, the location didn't have a name on an official map, and if Mark had ever flown near that area, it was just a tiny blip during a scenic sight-seeing trip. The other reason was because of what I experienced on that trip. What I saw, I wish I could get it out of my head, out of my dreams.
After Mark dropped me off and helped me unload my gear, I spent most of my first day setting up camp, not far from the lake, a good eighty-five yards or so (or a little over 77 meters). I found a nice and remarkably dry dead log that had some good size branches, so that was my main supply of firewood.
A short walk away there was small grove of trees inland from the lake that I set up as my food storage location. Mark said bears were not uncommon in this area, though not necessarily the best place to see some, but it was still advised to keep food hanging from a tree, out of reach from any potential bears.
The lake had a rather unique shape to it, which made it easy for me to set up a good spot for a cooking area. For those unfamiliar, the campsite, food storage, and kitchen area should form a triangle, which some people refer to as a "bear-muda" triangle.
Day two and three were not entirely uneventful for the most part. Day two, I was eating lunch at my campsite while watching a bull moose dive into the lake to eat the plants at the bottom. Day 3, I did some hiking. Found a small hill with only a couple trees on top, and I decided to sit down and observe a herd of elk grazing for a good while. Exploring around the lake, I found a small rusted boat buried under some branches. It was in rough shape, but could still float on the water. So I dragged it back with me to camp and put it near the lakeshore. Figured I could go out on the lake and take some good photos from it.
Day Four is when things started to get weird. It got unnaturally quiet that morning, the birds were not singing, and the only sounds were from the lake, and the bugs. Despite making sure I packed mosquito repellent, the bugs were a big nuisance if I was near the lake. I hesitated to travel away from my tent, outside of walking to the lake. I tried not to let the silence bother me, and I occupied my time with reading inside my tent.
As the sun dipped down and darkness began to creep in, I was starting to feel uneasy. Like a primal kind of fear. I decided I was going to make my campfire a bit bigger than I normally make it, enough that the light shone further away.
As I turned in for the night, I made sure my bear spray and the rifle were within reach inside my tent. But I had trouble sleeping. The silence was unnerving. I was fighting myself not to toss and turn, because I was too afraid of the noise attracting something I did not want to encounter alone at night.
Just as I was about to close my eyes, I heard a branch snap. That woke me up faster than a bucket of ice water, and I immediately froze. I could heard something coming into my campsite. I reached for the bear spray and held it tightly to my chest. As slowly as humanly possible, I turned over, and saw the shadow of an animal on the wall of my tent, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight.
The animal was big, about the size of a trophy brown bear, but the silhouette looked off. I just figured it was from some sort of distortion from the angle I was looking at. But the noises it made, were not like that of a bear. It made huffing noises like a bear, but the sound wasn't exactly the same. I could tell it was starting to approach my tent, so I had my thumb ready on the safety catch of the spray.
Suddenly, the creature tore through the tent like tissue paper, and grabbed my sleeping bag in its jaws. The strength of the animal caused me to nearly hit my head off the ground, and for a brief moment, I caught a look at the animals face.
The animal's head look similar to a bear's. But there was something uncanny about it, uncanny in a way that I can not entirely articulate. It wasn't malformed or anything, it just looked off.
As the animal dragged me out of the tent, I popped off the safety catch, and sprayed it in the face. The animal reeled back, groaning in pain. It was a horrendous noise, not like anything I have ever heard. I heard it run off into the thick brush, and as I went to head for the remains of my tent, I could hear this crashing and cracking noise from the animal. I was too scared that it was going to come back, so I ran for the boat.
As I was pushing the boat into the water, I turned back, and from the fading glow of the campfire, I saw the animal begin to charge. I wasted no time in getting the boat into the water, and I begin to paddle as quickly as I could. I knew the creature would be faster, but I was praying that I got far enough away from shore, it wouldn't attempt to chase me.
The creature didn't stop at the lakeshore, and it made its way through the water, at least up to its chest and stopped. I could faintly see it from the moonlight, and then it ran for my tent. While I couldn't see it all that well, I could tell from the horrendous noise that the animal was thrashing around my camping supplies. I hoped to God that the rifle and satellite phone were intact.
I curled up in the boat, and tried my best to sleep, but I was drenched up to my waist, and I was shivering like crazy. After a good fifteen minutes, the noises from my campsite died down and everything became still again. I never slept through the night, but occasionally would paddle the boat to make sure it didn't float off towards shore during the night.
When morning approached, I was still too afraid to go back to my campsite. I waited until around noon, when my stomach began to protest. I picked up the paddle, and slowly and as quietly as possible, paddled back to my campsite.
As I reached the shore, I still waited for several minutes, just to make sure I didn't hear the creature approach. I slowly walked back to what remained of my campsite.
The tent was nothing more than snapped poles and tattered fabric, and what was left of my sleeping bag was unrecognizable as belonging to a sleeping bag. Unfortunately, Mark's rifle had a busted stock, and the wooden forearm had a big crack down it. My backpack had been torn apart, and clothes and gear were scattered all around.
I found my binoculars laying in the firepit, luckily, it looked like the fire had gone out before they landed in it, as there were no sco...
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