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| Eerie woods at sunset |
The Trail That Changed Everything
It was one of those crisp autumn mornings when the air smells like pine and the leaves crunch under your boots. I’d been planning this solo hike for weeks—18 miles through the backwoods of Western Massachusetts. I’m no stranger to hiking alone, but this time, something felt… off. Maybe it was the way the fog clung to the trees like it didn’t want to let go, or the eerie silence that made my footsteps sound louder than they should. Either way, I brushed it off. Big mistake.
The First Red Flag
About two hours in, I noticed him. A guy, maybe in his late 30s, walking towards me on the trail. He looked like your average hiker—backpack, boots, a flannel shirt—but there was something about the way he smiled that made my skin crawl. Too wide, too forced. Like he was trying too hard to seem friendly.
“Hey,” he said, his voice way too cheerful for someone out here alone. “You hiking solo too?”
I nodded, keeping my answers short. “Yeah, just a day trip.”
He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he started walking backwards, keeping his eyes locked on me. “Cool, cool. Where you headed? I’m just exploring. You never know what you’ll find out here, right?”
I forced a laugh, but my gut was screaming at me to get away. He kept asking questions—where I was from, what I did for work, even where I parked my car. Every time I tried to turn the conversation back to him, he’d give some vague answer and steer it right back to me. Creepy vibes? Check.
The Conversation That Went South
At one point, he apologized for being “awkward” and blamed it on not talking to people much. But here’s the thing—he didn’t seem awkward. His words were smooth, almost rehearsed. And the way he kept looking over his shoulder? Like he was waiting for someone. Or something.
I started giving fake answers. Told him I was from a town I’d never been to, said I worked in a job I didn’t have. Anything to throw him off. But he didn’t seem to care. He just kept talking, his voice getting lower, like he was sharing some big secret.
“You know,” he said, “these woods have a history. People go missing out here. They say it’s the land. It doesn’t like strangers.”
I laughed nervously, but inside, I was freaking out. Was he trying to scare me? Or warn me?
The Parting That Wasn’t Really a Parting
After what felt like forever, his trail veered off to the left. “Well, this is my stop,” he said, still smiling that unsettling smile. “Be careful out there. You never know who—or what—you’ll run into.”
I nodded, pretending I was close to my car even though I still had hours of hiking ahead. As soon as he was out of sight, I bolted. But here’s where it gets weird. Even though his trail was supposed to go in the opposite direction, I could still hear him talking. His voice carried through the trees, low and steady.
“Short hair, blue eyes, about 5’5”. She’s headed towards the old logging road.”
My blood ran cold. He was describing me. But to who? There was no one else around. No phone signal, no other hikers. Just me, the trees, and his voice.
The Run That Felt Endless
I didn’t think. I just ran. My backpack bounced against my shoulders, and my legs burned, but I didn’t stop. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves made me run faster. I kept glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see him—or worse, someone else—chasing me.
At one point, I tripped and fell, scraping my hands on the rocky trail. That’s when I remembered the dull kitchen knife I’d thrown in my backpack last minute. I grabbed it, clutching it like a lifeline. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
The Clearing That Felt Wrong
Eventually, I reached a clearing. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the ground. It should’ve been peaceful, but it wasn’t. The air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on me. And the silence? It was deafening.
That’s when I saw it. A pile of rocks stacked in the center of the clearing, with what looked like bones scattered around them. My stomach churned. This wasn’t just some random hiker’s campsite. This was something else.
I didn’t stick around to find out what. I turned and ran, not stopping until I reached my car. Even then, I didn’t feel safe. I kept checking the rearview mirror the whole drive home, half-expecting to see him—or something—following me.
The Aftermath
I never found out who that guy was or what he was doing out there. I tried looking up stories about the area, but all I found were vague mentions of hikers going missing and strange occurrences in the woods. Some people blamed it on the land, like the guy had said. Others said it was just bad luck.
Either way, I haven’t gone hiking alone since. And that knife? It stays in my backpack, just in case.
What I Learned: Tips for Staying Safe on Remote Trails
- Trust Your Gut: If something feels off, it probably is. Don’t ignore those instincts.
- Carry Protection: Even something as simple as a knife or pepper spray can make a difference.
- Let Someone Know: Always tell someone your route and expected return time.
- Stay Aware: Keep an eye on your surroundings and avoid distractions like loud music.
- Plan Your Exit: Know where the nearest road or town is in case you need to get out fast.
Hiking solo can be an incredible experience, but it’s not without risks. My encounter in Western MA taught me that sometimes, the scariest things aren’t the ones you can see. They’re the ones that linger in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
So, if you’re planning a solo hike, be prepared. Stay alert. And most importantly, trust yourself. Because out there, in the middle of nowhere, you’re the only one who can keep you safe.