NLNo5
Active Member
I love a good ghost story. Post your ghost stories here. If it true just say so.
I was on a trek in the mountains with friends. We were about 20 miles into some deep wilderness. We were at least a day off the trail and two day from the road and located in a pretty remote area of the mountains. That particular day we had spent about 8 hours climbing steep off-trail terrain moving higher up the mountain towards the tree line. We all had pretty decent experience doing treks in the mountains. It was the end of a long day and we had all pitched our tents and were all asleep for quite a while. It was about 3 in the morning. I woke up suddenly, sleeping in the tent alongside my best friend Ryan. It was raining outside and then the rain stopped. I was just chilling-out laying on my back inside the sleeping bag and looking out the back of the tent. Everyone else was asleep and the only sound you could hear was the wind and the rain dripping off the trees. The air on my face was crispy cold and I could feel the cold of the night on my shoulders through the sleeping bag. I was looking backwards through the screen of the door. I was observing the silhouette of the blackness of the trees against the lighter shade of the sky. I was staring up in that direction for about 10 minutes just checking out how cool it was the shapes of the black evergreens against the shade of the darkblue sky. After looking around up in the sky for a while I shifted my eyes further backwards towards the trunks of the trees and I saw a man standing about 10 feet away from the tent. He was an old ragged man dressed like a mountain-man from the history books. He was standing there with a giant old braided natural fiber climbing-rope draped cross wise around his shoulder and under his opposite arm. he was standing there with an old climbing axe in his hand and he had a wool had with a brim. He was just standing dead still right there in the middle of the camp. I couldn't really see his face but there was enough moonlight to see the features of his clothes and the rope and the climbing axe. He was looking towards my location across the top of our tent off into the woods. I was scared still and my head was cocked back in his direction. In my view he was upside down which made it even creepier. I stared at him for many minutes through the screen of the tent without even barely breathing. He didn't move. I blinked my eyes and re-focused several times just to make sure I wasn't tripping myself out. I knew he probably couldn't see me staring at him through the screen. Finally, after getting a nice long look at him I decided to close my eyes and pretend I was asleep. After about 5 minutes laying there with my eyes closed, I decided to get my flashlight and shine it on the dude. There had been no sounds of the man standing outside. I slowly reached inside my bag and grabbed my flashlight and turned it on and kept it dark by covering the front with my hand. I slowly moved the light across my chest and pointed it out the tent in the direction of the man. I moved my hand and the whole area where the man was standing became instantly lit up. I had the front of the light pushed tight up against the screen of the tent and was shining it all around the camp outside. The man was no longer standing where he was and I was really freaking out. Thinking that he may have been right next to our tent I figured there was nothing to loose now. I woke up Ryan and told him all about it. We decided I was just freaking myself out and we went back to sleep. For all I know he was standing outside the whole time.
In the morning there was shit missing form the camp. A friend had one of his boots missing and someone was missing their cup. And one of the older guys on the trip was missing his camp hatchet. I didn't tell anyone else about the story just out of fear they'd be fucking with my head the rest of the trip. It took me several days to get any good sleep after that night. I slept with my boots on and had my flashlight ready in my sleeping bag next to my head.
I know there was an old mountian-man standing outside our tent that night because I watched him for many minutes and observed every detail blinking my eyes and refocusing my vision. Every time I looked he was there. No sounds of him moving around the camp and no sign of him when I turned the light on.
I think it was a ghost of a dead mountaineer from some time long ago. I figure he died on the mountain from some sort of foul play. He probably roams around the mountain steeling shit from people climbing his mountain. I swear this shit happened to me exactly like I'm telling it.
The guy without the boot ended up hiking the rest of the trip with a boot made out of a shirt and some folded cardboard all duct-taped together. The guy without the cup ended up eating all his meals out of a recycled Starbucks paper cup. The guy without the hatchet just couldn't figure out what the fuck happened.
Every time I tell this story I fucking get myself all freaked out again just like that night. I never doubt I'm alone in the wilderness from that point forward.
I was on a trek in the mountains with friends. We were about 20 miles into some deep wilderness. We were at least a day off the trail and two day from the road and located in a pretty remote area of the mountains. That particular day we had spent about 8 hours climbing steep off-trail terrain moving higher up the mountain towards the tree line. We all had pretty decent experience doing treks in the mountains. It was the end of a long day and we had all pitched our tents and were all asleep for quite a while. It was about 3 in the morning. I woke up suddenly, sleeping in the tent alongside my best friend Ryan. It was raining outside and then the rain stopped. I was just chilling-out laying on my back inside the sleeping bag and looking out the back of the tent. Everyone else was asleep and the only sound you could hear was the wind and the rain dripping off the trees. The air on my face was crispy cold and I could feel the cold of the night on my shoulders through the sleeping bag. I was looking backwards through the screen of the door. I was observing the silhouette of the blackness of the trees against the lighter shade of the sky. I was staring up in that direction for about 10 minutes just checking out how cool it was the shapes of the black evergreens against the shade of the darkblue sky. After looking around up in the sky for a while I shifted my eyes further backwards towards the trunks of the trees and I saw a man standing about 10 feet away from the tent. He was an old ragged man dressed like a mountain-man from the history books. He was standing there with a giant old braided natural fiber climbing-rope draped cross wise around his shoulder and under his opposite arm. he was standing there with an old climbing axe in his hand and he had a wool had with a brim. He was just standing dead still right there in the middle of the camp. I couldn't really see his face but there was enough moonlight to see the features of his clothes and the rope and the climbing axe. He was looking towards my location across the top of our tent off into the woods. I was scared still and my head was cocked back in his direction. In my view he was upside down which made it even creepier. I stared at him for many minutes through the screen of the tent without even barely breathing. He didn't move. I blinked my eyes and re-focused several times just to make sure I wasn't tripping myself out. I knew he probably couldn't see me staring at him through the screen. Finally, after getting a nice long look at him I decided to close my eyes and pretend I was asleep. After about 5 minutes laying there with my eyes closed, I decided to get my flashlight and shine it on the dude. There had been no sounds of the man standing outside. I slowly reached inside my bag and grabbed my flashlight and turned it on and kept it dark by covering the front with my hand. I slowly moved the light across my chest and pointed it out the tent in the direction of the man. I moved my hand and the whole area where the man was standing became instantly lit up. I had the front of the light pushed tight up against the screen of the tent and was shining it all around the camp outside. The man was no longer standing where he was and I was really freaking out. Thinking that he may have been right next to our tent I figured there was nothing to loose now. I woke up Ryan and told him all about it. We decided I was just freaking myself out and we went back to sleep. For all I know he was standing outside the whole time.
In the morning there was shit missing form the camp. A friend had one of his boots missing and someone was missing their cup. And one of the older guys on the trip was missing his camp hatchet. I didn't tell anyone else about the story just out of fear they'd be fucking with my head the rest of the trip. It took me several days to get any good sleep after that night. I slept with my boots on and had my flashlight ready in my sleeping bag next to my head.
I know there was an old mountian-man standing outside our tent that night because I watched him for many minutes and observed every detail blinking my eyes and refocusing my vision. Every time I looked he was there. No sounds of him moving around the camp and no sign of him when I turned the light on.
I think it was a ghost of a dead mountaineer from some time long ago. I figure he died on the mountain from some sort of foul play. He probably roams around the mountain steeling shit from people climbing his mountain. I swear this shit happened to me exactly like I'm telling it.
The guy without the boot ended up hiking the rest of the trip with a boot made out of a shirt and some folded cardboard all duct-taped together. The guy without the cup ended up eating all his meals out of a recycled Starbucks paper cup. The guy without the hatchet just couldn't figure out what the fuck happened.
Every time I tell this story I fucking get myself all freaked out again just like that night. I never doubt I'm alone in the wilderness from that point forward.