A few years ago I was backpacking in Eastern Washington with some friends of mine. I don’t know how well you guys know Eastern Washington, but its pretty much dust, sagebrush and dirt. We decided to hike up onto the top of this canyon, and from up there you could see miles and miles of straight nothing. After a few hours of traversing the top of the cliff, we eventually found a little crevasse that kind of took us a little ways underground, into a pretty decent sized cave. The cave was filled with little bones, like mice and bats. In one of the corners of the cave, there was a rock fixture that jutted up from the ground and almost made a separate “room” so to speak.
In the room we found lots of scratches on the walls, photographs, and three bottles with notes in them. While this was kind of off-putting on its own, we figured it was just some sort of joke and we’d find silly S.O.S. notes in the bottles. The scariest part about it all was the photographs were super ordinary, of families and normal people, and two of the notes in the bottles made no sense at all. While it was English, it was pretty much straight gibberish, none of the words made sense in context with the other words. The third bottle had a super ordinary letter talking about what they’ve been up to; something you’d send to a fairly distant relative after not talking with them for a while.
I don’t really know what to think of it all, I feel like it could easily have been someone just joking around but it was almost too strange for that.
Camping in the back country in Quebec, pretty much all alone for what we thought. We heard shuffling outside of the tent one night but wrote it off as a raccoon or possum. Woke up in the morning with scattered cigarette butts all around the front of our tent as if someone stood there all night keeping an eye on us. Nothing happened after that except some spectacular storms and bear sightings.
This at Oleta River in Miami Florida.