Freaks In The Woods: 17 True Stories Of Scary Encounters Deep In The Forest

16. I’ve got 911 dialed on my phone, a hatchet beside my chair, and my hunting knife in my lap.

“My BF, our dog, and I went camping up this Forest service road in BC, Canada that I’ve gone to well over 20 times. Midweek, early in the season for most people. We have the place to ourselves.

Around dusk two guys bomb up the road on quads, had to go past my car to get to the river, we don’t think anything of it. About an hour later one guy left. Other guy is still at the river, so after a bit I go ask if everything is all good with his quad, thinking maybe he ran out of gas and his buddy went to go get more.

Dude was very surprised by the fact that there were people there, had no idea that they went right past my car and our campsite. Apparently his quad was fine, so I head back to our site.

We’re peacefully making dinner and hear YELLING over the sounds of the river. Both of us thought it was odd, but hey, people are weird. He’s yelling things like ‘fuck you, you ruined my life’ and unintelligible angriness. About an hour of this and we’re wondering what the deal is. Its full dark, we’ve got the campfire going strong and Buddy fires up his quad. We’re a little bit higher up than the road, maybe 5 feet, and he stops at the entrance to our site. My bf walks over and Buddy is all ‘oh! There’s people here!?’ And starts asking questions about how many people and how long we’ve been there for. My bf lies and says there’s a few of us, and more coming (smart man). Buddy goes off on his quad past my car which is parked about 10 feet down the road on the way out.

About 10 minutes later he comes back, past the car, past our site and has some more strong words with the river. Another half hour of yelling and he gets back on his quad, goes to drive back out, and stops right near my car. We’re definitely weirded out at this point and didn’t want my car trashed. Bf takes the hatchet and goes to ‘get something out of the car.’ Buddy is once again surprised by our presence. Buddy leaves again, but not 20 minutes go by and he’s come back. It’s about 11 PM now, we were drinking but now are stone cold sober. Buddy stops his quad just below the campsite again. We pretend to ignore his presence and go on with our conversation. I’ve got 911 dialed on my phone, a hatchet beside my chair and my hunting knife in my lap, just about to press send when he goes to leave again. I call anyway and let the police know what’s been going on and if they find two murdered bodies it’s us.

Buddy came back two more times, finally left for good around 2 AM. I don’t think we got any sleep that night. I’ve never been so unnerved in my life, and I do a decent amount of solo camping. Never heard anything back from the police either. Still freaks me out a bit to this day.”

—kita151


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