The Great (And Frightening) Outdoors

Summary

Sightings – "The Great (And Frightening) Outdoors"

Podcast by REVERB | Daylight Media

Episode Release: July 20, 2026
Hosts: McLeod Andrews & Brian Sigley

Episode Overview

This installment of Sightings immerses listeners in eerie tales set deep in the wilderness, exploring supernatural encounters in the great outdoors. Centered on legendary and lesser-known hauntings—from Yosemite's Grouse Lake to colonial ghosts in New Jersey and unsettling camp encounters in Michigan—this episode blends personal accounts, folklore, and chilling firsthand stories to probe the thin boundary between reality and the inexplicable.

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Key Segments & Discussion Points

1. Haunted Grouse Lake – A Park Ranger’s Account (01:47–15:06)

Setting & Introduction

• Yosemite's Grouse Lake, an isolated, little-known location with deep-rooted Miwok legend.
• Walt Pruitt, a veteran park ranger, narrates his recent chilling experiences for the benefit of his son and posterity.

The Local Legend

• Miwok people believed the lake was haunted by the spirit of a drowned boy.
• Sounds of a child’s cries reported for over a century.
  • Reference to Galen Clark (1857): "the cries of a ghost of a boy who drowned here long ago." (16:30)
  • John Muir’s 19th-century observations: “anyone who ventured too close to the cries risked being lured into the water to their deaths.” (17:33)

Walt’s Experience:

• Multiple backpackers reported mournful, childlike wailing at night.
• Walt camps out at Grouse Lake to investigate:
  • First night: Hears a "wail of pure grief," lasting almost an hour.
    • “The only way I can describe it was that it was a wail. A wail of pure grief. Not pain. Grief.” — Walt (04:37)
  • Second night: Approaches the lake after hearing the wailing, sees a child-sized figure on the far bank, barefoot prints emerging from the water.
  • A young Native American boy suddenly appears behind Walt, emits the grief-stricken wail directly at him, terrifying Walt into fleeing the area.
    • “He opened his mouth. And the sound that came out was the sound from the lake…All that grief, that sorrow. And it was so loud. Too loud to bear. And in that moment…I ran.” — Walt (12:08)
• Aftermath: Walt reflects on the possibility of rational explanations, but admits, “Some things are more than that. I know that now,” warning of the enigmatic power of the natural world.
  • (13:57) “I have a deep respect for how the natural world produces things that feel impossible to account for...But some things are more than that.”

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2. Discussion: Grouse Lake Lore and Theories (16:30–20:57)

• Historical Context:
  • Grouse Lake hauntings predate Yosemite’s park status. Tribal rituals sought to soothe the “crying” spirit.
  • “I wonder what happened to this boy. I mean, obviously he drowned...but it must have been particularly...he's still there, still stuck there, you know, the despair so deep...” — McLeod (19:15)
• Comparisons:
  • Likeness to “siren” legends: Luring calls, risk of being drawn in.
  • Mexican folklore parallel: La Llorona, “the crying ghost.”
• Skeptical Explanations:
  • Wind effects, acoustics, or birds producing humanlike calls.
    • “Maybe it’s just like blowing on the top of a bottle.” — McLeod (20:20)
    • “The acoustics of the lake itself might just distort ordinary noises...” — Brian (20:23)
• Motif:
  • Wilderness hauntings possess a unique, grand scale—“the sound just filling a mountain range.”

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3. Listener Stories – Outdoors Paranormal Encounters

Elaine’s "Time Slip" at the Gabrail Davies House (21:20–25:29)

• Elaine recounts an incident from her New Jersey childhood (circa 1963):
  • She and a friend entered an apparently abandoned colonial-era house, finding men in Revolutionary War uniforms poring over a map, with no reaction to their presence.
  • Decades later research reveals house’s historical use as a tavern and Revolutionary War hospital; Elaine believes they saw a glimpse of the past.
  • “I don’t really believe in ghosts, but…I know for sure the men we saw were not of our time.” — Elaine (24:09)
• Discussion:
  • Hosts consider time slips, not just hauntings: “It’s almost as if she’s the ghost...It’s just some weird...brushing up against parts of the universe.” — McLeod (24:42, 25:25)
  • Historical mystery sparks lifelong curiosity: “You know, that’s the best aspects of kind of, like, learning come from just, like, trying to solve a problem or, like, figure out something that’s happened to us or moved us.” — Brian (25:34)

Doug’s Summer Camp Fog Encounter (26:13–38:45)

• Former counselor Doug recalls an inexplicable event at a Michigan boys’ camp (mid-July, unspecified year).
  • Out on a routine hike, dense fog descends unexpectedly, disorienting the group.
  • Strange phenomena:
    • Kids act bizarrely: One becomes talkative, another hums a repetitive melody, some believe they've walked the trail before or are being followed by a second counselor.
    • "He said he remembered this part of the trail...I reminded him this was his first time at camp. He got this confused look...but kept insisting he’d been there before." — Doug (30:44)
    • Odd time distortions; watches stop; landscape subtly changes.
  • After returning to camp:
    • Subtly traumatized campers: Bedwetting, aversion to woods, disturbing dreams about being followed or lost.
    • Years later, Doug meets one of the campers, now an adult, who says:
      • “Sometimes he wondered if we all made it back completely that day. Like maybe part of us was still out there in the fog, walking that trail over and over.” — Jake (34:44)
  • Doug remains haunted: “I can’t shake the feeling that something happened in that fog that I’m never going to fully understand.”

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Notable Quotes and Moments

• Walt on his experience:
  • "The only way I can describe it was that it was a wail. A wail of pure grief. Not pain. Grief." (04:37)
• Brian, on Grouse Lake’s haunting:
  • “There’s a lot of eerie stories, but a lot of them seem to focus on Grouse Lake…a lot of the stories of what might have happened there predate the formation of the national park.” (16:37)
• On time slip phenomena:
  • “It’s almost as if she’s the ghost and, like, sense something...and continue their business.” — McLeod (24:41)
• Doug’s strange hike reflection:
  • “Maybe I’m reading too much into a random encounter at the grocery store. But I can’t shake the feeling that something happened in that fog that I’m never going to fully understand.” (38:44)
• Jake’s haunting question:
  • “Sometimes he wondered if we all made it back completely that day. Like maybe part of us was still out there in the fog, walking that trail over and over.” (34:44)

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Timestamps for Key Segments

• 01:47 – Introduction to Grouse Lake legend & Walt’s ranger account
• 12:08 – Walt’s confrontation with the spectral boy and aftermath
• 16:30 – Hosts discuss Grouse Lake’s history, legends, and skeptical theories
• 21:20 – Listener Elaine’s colonial “time slip” story
• 26:13 – Doug’s summer camp fog encounter
• 34:44 – Chilling revelation from grown-up camper Jake
• 38:45–41:26 – Hosts reflect on the unease and realism of outdoor hauntings

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Tone & Takeaways

The episode deftly blends awe for natural beauty with dread for what might lurk unseen. The hosts’ tone is engaged, occasionally skeptical but open-minded, framing each bizarre occurrence with thoughtful historical and psychological context. The personal stories, particularly those involving the unexplained (the wailing at Grouse Lake, children in fog, glimpses into the past), prompt contemplation rather than pat conclusions, inviting listeners to question the boundaries of reality and legend.

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Preview of Next Episode

• Next month, the hosts will dive into a Bay Area legend inspired by “liminal spaces,” tying into themes from the summer’s blockbuster movie “Backrooms.” (41:41)

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For fans of wilderness, folklore, and the uncanny, this episode is a rich and chilling excursion into the haunted corners of “the great outdoors.”

Transcript

[A]

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[B]

Your medical freedom is worth protecting. That's why Jace is offering massive savings on life saving medications this July. Enjoy membership to Jace plus for just $17.76 for the entire year where you'll receive ongoing discounts and 24. 7 access to a first aid helpline all year round. You'll also find special pricing on the Jace case, Jace Trauma, Ivermectin and more medical tools to keep you and your loved ones emergency ready. The sale ends July 31st. Visit jace.com that's J-A-S-E.com to learn more and save on peace of mind. Nature has a way of making you feel small. Open skies, ancient forests. The kind of silence that reminds you how little of the world actually belongs to us. But what if that silence isn't empty? What if, deep in the wilderness, where campfires burn low and the night stretches on forever, something ancient still wanders the woods? And what if it's waiting for you? Welcome to sightings. I'm McLeod.

[A]

And I'm Brian. And it's the heart of summer, so I thought we'd feature a story from one of America's most incredible national parks, Yosemite.

[B]

There's legends of a lake deep in the wilderness there that's haunted. Are they just tall tales, or is there really something lurking in the dark park at Grouse Lake? Find out on this episode of Sightings. Hello. Hello. My son Danny gave me this recorder back in March. He said I should use it to get some of my observations down since I was always yammering on about the park like I was narrating a nature documentary. You know, he's thoughtful like that, but I want him to know, if he ever listens to this, that I did not intend to use it for something like this. Oh, my name's Walt Pruitt. I've been a park ranger in Yosemite going on 16 years. My wife would tell you I'm a deeply boring man, and I think she means it as a compliment. But what can I say? I like the outdoors, the quiet, the calm of it all. So understand that what I'm about to describe is not something I arrived at easily. And that talking into a recorder about it is just about as Far outside my nature as a thing can get. But something's been happening out here in the park and I need to put it somewhere. So here it is. I'm sitting about 200 yards back from Grouse Lake right now. It's early morning, sun just up, and I haven't slept, which makes sense given the night I've had. But I'll get to that first history. Because without it, what I'm about to say will sound like the ramblings of a man who spent too many nights alone in the backcountry, which. Fair enough, but hear me out. Most people who visit the park have no idea Grouse Lake even exists. It's small off the main trail systems, tucked up in the forest above Bridalveil Creek at about 8,000ft. Tall pines around it kill the wind, so the water is usually still and usually looks like a painting. It's quite lovely, actually. But long before anyone decided to map this place, the Miwok people lived here. And their stories, which go way, way back, give the lake a particular spiritual weight. The specific story, at least as I've heard it, involves a young boy from the community who drowned in the lake. Nothing was documented, of course. This had to be what, oh, 150 years ago? But the legend stuck and the tribe believed that boy's spirit never left, that it stayed in the water restless, and that if you went to the lake on a still evening, you could hear him crying. Now, I've been out to this lake dozens of times and heard nothing out of the ordinary until. Well, I'll get there. I promise. A few days back, a group of backpackers came to the visitor center after a three day loop through the backcountry. Four of them, all experienced, all sensible seeming. But they said on their second night camped just off Grouse Lake, they were kept awake from a sound on the water. They described it like a child crying, but wrong somehow. Not distressed exactly, mournful. They were clearly bothered enough to report it and asked whether any wildlife in the area could account for it. I told them I'd look into it, which is the kind of thing you say usually and then you file the note and move on. But then I remembered something I'd read. Old writing from more than a century ago of frontiersman and naturalist who heard strange cries on the lake. One of those men was John Muir, who. Well, he's kind of a big deal. And if he heard something just like these hikers did, well, I wanted to get to the bottom of it. So I decided I'd go up there myself, camp a night near the lake and see what I heard. And yeah, that was two nights ago. I made camp here, right where I'm sitting now, maybe a hundred yards from the shore, in the trees where the ground is level. The idea was to sit, stay quiet and listen. And the first few hours were exactly what I expected. Pines settling in, the cold water lapping on the outlet rocks. A couple owls working the meadow on the eastern side. Nothing unusual. And I'll admit I sat there feeling slightly foolish, the way you do when you're committed to something that isn't cooperating. But sometime after midnight, I guess around one in the morning, I heard. Started low enough that at first I wasn't sure I was actually hearing something or just listening so hard I'd invented it. But this sound, it kept going. And as it went on, it got clearer. It was coming from the direction of the lake. And the only way I can describe it was that it was a whale. A whale of pure grief. Not pain. Grief. And I sat with it for a long time. Maybe close to an hour. I didn't approach the lake, partly out of instinct, but also because I was a bit spooked. Then it stopped. No fade, no trailing off, just gone. I didn't sleep at all after that. And this morning, with the lake sitting there looking completely ordinary in the daylight. I've been trying to build an explanation. Maybe it was some animal I'm not familiar with, or an acoustic trick of some kind, or a tired mind working against itself. But I'm gonna stay here another night. I wanna know what this is and not just hear it. I wanna see it. Okay, I'm. I made it back to the trailhead. I'm in my truck and I just. Gosh, I just need to sit here a minute before I drive anywhere. I stayed at the lake again last night, just like I said I would. I spent the day working through what I'd heard and looked for a rational explanation. And my best explanation was some kind of bird. There are species in the Sierra that produce surprisingly human like calls. And I figured I'd heard one that was distorted by the water. And that. That felt plausible to me. Not satisfying, but plausible. So night fell and the lake was clearer than the night before. Almost no wind and a moon close enough to full that I could see the entire lake surface reasonably well. From where I sat, I could make out the far shore, the boulders at the waterline and the dark trees behind them. And sure enough, that sound came again. Maybe 11 o', clock, same Quality as before, that low, sustained, mournful sound. Human. And as soon as I heard it, I got up and slowly moved toward the shore, staying in the trees as long as I could. And as I got closer, maybe 30ft from the water, I saw something on the far bank. A figure standing at the water's edge, near the boulders on the north side of the lake. Small, child sized, just standing there, facing the water. The moonlight was enough that I could tell it was a person or something shaped like one. My first thought was that a child had wandered away from a campsite. Alarming, but explicable. So I started moving around the lake's edge as fast as I could manage without making too much noise. It took me maybe three minutes, tops. But by the time I got there, there was. There was nothing and no one there. I told myself I'd misread the shadows, that the moonlight and rock faces had arranged themselves into something my prepared mind was ready to find. But I crouched by the waterline anyway, more out of habit than any real expectation. And then that's when I saw prints. Barefoot prints, small ones, child sized, coming up out of the water and stopping at the bank. Not going back in, not continuing into the trees. Just stopping. As though whatever made them had simply vanished right there in the mud. I don't know how long I stood there looking at them. Long enough to go over them several times with my flashlight. Long enough to be certain that what I was seeing was human beings. Barefoot footprints. And then I heard something directly behind me. Not from the lake or the water, but right behind me. Still squatting. I turned to look. I found myself face to face with a young boy. He was eight or nine maybe. Dark hair, dark eyes. Native American by my estimation. And he was completely still, just standing there, staring right at me from a few feet away. I want to be careful about what I say next, because I've been turning it over my whole hike out, trying to be precise about what I actually saw versus what I might have layered onto it out of fear or, I don't know, something else. But I can say with 100% certainty that the boy was there. Or at least that I saw a boy there. He wasn't a ghost or transparent or anything like that. He was solid. A child on the lakeshore. And before I could even say anything to him, he opened his mouth. And. The sound that came out was the sound from the lake. That same sound right in my face, shuddering through me. All that. All that grief, that sorrow. And it was so loud. Too loud to Bear. And in that moment, I. I did the thing I would not have predicted I would do. I ran. I ran. Not as a decision. My body just ran. I couldn't control it. I went with it. I grabbed my pack without stopping and I just kept moving. Hiked out in the dark four miles, which I do not recommend. I got back to the truck maybe 20 minutes ago, and here I am. I have a deep respect for how the natural world produces things that feel impossible to account for. Sounds carry strangely over still water. Shadow and moonlight rearrange themselves. Wind currents and rock formations. But some things are more than that. I know that now. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to say for sure what I saw. But, Danny, if you ever play this back. I'm fine. I'm in the truck and I'm fine. I just need to say what happened. And this is your recorder. So it seemed right. So, yeah, I think I'm just gonna sit here for a little while longer and think about this and just calm down before I drive. Yeah.

[A]

Sightings will be back just after this. Hey, skeptical geckos, it's Bryan. And as you know from our theme this month, we are in the heart of summer. One thing I love about summer is how easy everything feels. The days are a little more relaxed, unless of course you are in a haunted hot spot. But when I'm relaxed, I reach for comfortable, go anywhere clothes that will get me through the heat. That's why I keep coming back to quints. They focus on well made essentials that you'll want to live in all season long. Like their 100% European linen pants. They are so breathable, easy to throw on, perfect for summer. I've also got some of their tees. They are so soft and so durable. I love them and they are holding up so much better than my other tees. Also, Quince does more than clothing. I've got some of their cookware and it is amazing. And they have everything from home to travel to everyday essentials. So make your summer wardrobe easier. Go to quint.com sightings for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. Now available in Canada too. That is Q-U-I-N c e.com sightings for free shipping and 365 day returns. Quince.com sightings all right, welcome back everyone. McLeod. That was a little different than the one we did last month, huh?

[B]

Hyperventilating made me like at a loss for oxygen. Needing more air.

[A]

Yeah. Well, let me fill you in. Then, because this is, this is all allegedly true. We all know that Yosemite is a real national park in Central California. Yes. You know, it is real. 1,187 square miles. It became a national park in 1890. And there is a lot of eerie stories, but a lot of them seem to focus on Grouse Lake. And a lot of the stories of what might have happened there predate the formation of the national park. Okay. So in 1857, a ranger named Galen Clark visited the area. He and the local indigenous people went on a deer hunt near Grouse Lake. And Clark heard the cries of a lost dog or a small child. But the locals, they're like, oh, no, that is neither of those things. Those were the cries of a ghost of a boy who drowned here long ago. And apparently the elders of the tribe would gather by the lake in ceremonial clothes and would perform rituals to kind of soothe the ghost, you know, soothe his spirit, I guess. But still the whales continued like we heard in the story. In the 1800s, John Muir wrote about hearing those sounds too, and he learned that anyone who ventured too close to the cries risked being lured into the water to their deaths.

[B]

Like a siren type situation.

[A]

Yeah, yeah.

[B]

And drown.

[A]

Uh huh.

[B]

Oh, wow.

[A]

So I, I don't think there's any modern reports of people drowning in that lake though.

[B]

Right.

[A]

But even today, people do hear things at the lake or have this feeling that they're being watched. And others have seen the shape of a young boy in or near the water. So that's kind of the overview of this lake, which sounds such an interesting contrast. Cause it sounds like such a beautiful place.

[B]

Yeah.

[A]

With such a haunting legacy in a way.

[B]

Yeah. And so this particular story, it's generally based on that. Did you say Galen was his name?

[A]

This was just kind of an amalgamation of all of the. Okay. More modern accounts of.

[B]

Okay.

[A]

Because this is not like the kind of thing that you've seen on ghost shows or, you know, it's not a, it's not a giant story. I kind of took some dramatic liberties with what he ended up seeing. But, you know, the, the lore that, you know, you hear the sound, you see the boy kind of thing. It does exist and people have, have had that account. And it's just interesting that I wonder what happened to this boy. I mean, obviously he drowned, you know, in the lake, but it must have been particularly. I mean, I guess, no, drowning is not traumatic, but he's still there, still

[B]

stuck there, you know, the despair so deep, like you like that it draws you into this need to comfort it or fix it or to run.

[A]

Kind of like sirens, like you mentioned before, a little bit. Like, the call kind of draws you in in a weird way.

[B]

But usually it's like sirens are more about beauty, like this kind of seduction almost.

[A]

There's a lure. It's a lure. They lure you. Yeah.

[B]

Is that like the. Isn't there, like, a La Llorena? Isn't that, like, a crying thing, too?

[A]

Yeah, it is. Crying ghost.

[B]

It's like a Mexican. It's the crying ghost.

[A]

Ugh.

[B]

Like, that's. There's something about that that's so. Oh, and like, a whale.

[A]

Yeah.

[B]

Like, part of me does think, like, it could be, like, there could be a, like, oral phenomenon that occurs with, like, this. This almost like, you know, it's this lake that's blocked from the wind. If, like. If maybe, like, what occurs is the wind kind of skips over the top of this depression or whatever, and almost like blowing on the top of a bottle.

[A]

Exactly.

[B]

Creates this.

[A]

Oh, yeah, that's what skeptics have said. And they've also said that, you know, the acoustics of the lake itself might just distort ordinary noises like birds or loons or other animals or the wind or something like that.

[B]

Yeah. I'm struck by the fact this being in a national park just kind of like, it lends it, like wilderness hauntings lend them such an epic scope. Oh, yeah, because it's like the sound just filling a mountain range kind of like. It just like, becomes so kind of big and epic. Anyway, cool story.

[A]

Let's dive into another quick listener story before. Or let's do a quick listener story before. Before we jump to another break. This one's a quickie. Ironically, also kind of has national parky vibes in a different way, I guess, though, so a little bit more history to it. So this is from Elaine, from New Jersey. Okay, let's just get some music going and dive right in.

[B]

I grew up in an old part of southern New Jersey, right across the Delaware river from Philadelphia, an area rich in colonial history. Growing up, I had no interest in history. But when I was around six years old, I experienced something that stuck with me my entire life. It made me start researching the area to answer a question that haunted me for years. It was around 1963. We had just moved out of our house to live with my grandparents while my father built our new home in a neighboring town. My grandparents lived in the small town of Glendora. I became good friends with Billy, the boy next door, who Was just a couple of years older than me. Back then, my parents felt safe letting me roam the neighborhood, Knowing I wouldn't venture far from home. One summer day, Billy was excited to tell me about something he had discovered After a baseball game at the local ball field. We hopped on our bikes and rode less than a mile away behind the ball field to an open area in front of an old brick house. The house looked abandoned. We walked up to the door, Carefully opened it, and saw four or five men standing around an old wooden table. They were looking at what appeared to be a map. The men looked old timey, and in hindsight, I realized they were wearing revolutionary war uniforms. They stopped talking, looked up at us, and had no reaction at all. They simply ignored us and went back to their business. Billy and I were scared. I was afraid we'd get into trouble. I don't know what Billy was thinking, but we jumped on our bikes and pedaled as fast as we could. I knew my parents would not be happy if I told them I had walked right into someone's house. So I didn't say a word. It wasn't until years later, as a young adult, that I finally told my mom what had happened. She had grown up in Glendora and immediately knew the house I was talking about. She said it was just an abandoned house on big timber creek. About 10 years ago, when I started doing genealogy research, I stumbled upon an article about the house. It was originally a tavern, the Gabrail Davies tavern, Also known as the Hillman hospital house. Built in 1756, it served as a tavern for boatmen on the creek Headed to Philadelphia during the revolutionary war. George Washington designated it as a hospital. I found documents detailing the owner and occupants of the house during the time I was there. I don't really believe in ghosts, but. But I know for sure the men we saw were not of our time. By the time I discovered all this, Billy had passed away. The house is now a historical site and a popular location for paranormal researchers. I've been back to New Jersey a few times and have driven by the site. I wasn't able to get a tour, But I looked in the window and saw the same wooden table Just as I remembered.

[A]

This is not meant to diminish her story at all, but like, I was like, what if she just walked in on a bunch of reenactors who were just hanging out in the house?

[B]

I know that that came to mind, too.

[A]

It's eerie though. Could you imagine walking into, you know, like, there are old houses like that all over The East Coast. And to walk in and just walk in into a times warp, basically. Almost.

[B]

Yeah.

[A]

Awesome.

[B]

And the way they just kind of look up at the door and then keep going. It's almost as if she's the ghost and, like, like, sense something. And they're like, did you hear that? And they're like, oh, I guess it was nothing. And continue their business.

[A]

So, in a way, I wonder if this is actually a ghost story or more of like a time slip story or something. Like, there are stories of people who. There's a pretty famous. One of two women in. I think it was Versailles or something like that who were walking through the gardens and all of a sudden found themselves in the 17th century and then, you know, a little bit later ended up right back where they started. I wonder if that's a little case of what happened here. It's just some weird. You brushing up against parts of the universe in a weird way or something like that.

[B]

Yeah. Some fold in the space time continuum.

[A]

But, Alain, thank you for sharing that. That's a really cool little encounter story.

[B]

Yeah. And I like that it was like a jumping off point for an interest in history and research and, like. Yeah, I think that, like, you know, that's the best aspects of kind of, like, learning come from just, like, trying to solve a problem or, like, figure out something that's happened to us or moved us. Very cool.

[A]

Well, when we come back, we're gonna stick with our great outdoors theme. We've got another outdoor summer story coming right at you, so. All right, McLeod, we got one more listener story. This one is obviously set in the great outdoors. This one was sent in by Doug, and it takes place at a summer camp.

[B]

A summer camp.

[A]

Summer camp in the sun.

[B]

Oh, man.

[A]

Well, we're in the middle of the summer, so I thought it was perfect.

[B]

I know, but now I'm getting Jason vibes.

[A]

Yeah, no, this one's more mysterious and cool. So let's get some creepy music. Cool.

[B]

Could you do some crickets for us, too? Like.

[A]

Oh, let me see. I'll help find. Find some crickets. Yeah, I think we have some. Ah.

[B]

Oh. Yep. I feel like I'm there. It's like, we're there.

[A]

All right.

[B]

I'm Doug now. I worked as a camp counselor for three summers during college, all at the same boys camp in northern Michigan. Not the kind with horseback riding and water skiing and big white dining halls. This was the simpler kind. Smaller, a little scruffy around the edges. It sat against a big inland lake surrounded by tons of Forest and a half forgotten state trail system that never got much use outside the campers. The kids were between 10 and 12, mostly from the Detroit suburbs. A lot of them had never been in the woods before. The ones who came back every summer treated the place like a second home. Aww. Mess hall jokes, campfire traditions, that kind of thing. I liked working there. The counselors were all college age and pretty low key. No one took it too seriously. We did our jobs, made sure no one got lost or broke anything important, and made up dumb songs to keep the kids from getting homesick. The usual. The camp was big on outdoor activities, as I would expect most camps would be. Isn't that the point of camp? Which meant every cabin got one long hike day per week. Nothing too ambitious, just different trails around the area to get kids out in nature and wear them out before dinner. The trails were all pretty well marked and most of them were loops that brought you back to camp in two or three hours, depending on how fast your group moved and how many times you had to stop for bathroom breaks or someone losing their water bottle. My group's hike day was Thursdays and this particular week we were doing this easy two mile loop that went through some pine forest and around a small pond. Perfect for the age group because it wasn't too challenging, but still felt like an adventure. Usually there were a couple spots where you could see the lake and sometimes deer would come down to drink, which was a plus. So this particular Thursday in mid July, we headed out around 10 in the morning like always. Beautiful day, sunny and warm, but not too hot. Perfect hiking weather. The kids were in good spirits, making jokes and trying to spot wildlife and doing that thing where they pick up random sticks and wave them around like swords. Normal kid stuff. We were maybe 40 minutes into the hike when I noticed fog starting to roll in, which was weird because the day had started crystal clear and fog usually burns off by mid morning, not the other way around. But weather up there can be unpredictable, so I figured maybe it was just some kind of humidity thing or marine layer coming up from the lake. At first it wasn't too bad, just a light mist that made everything look a little dreamy. The kids thought it was cool and started making jokes about being in a horror movie and yelling into the fog to hear their voices echo. Even though that really didn't work.

[A]

All these dumb kids just shouting.

[B]

Dumb kids, dumb kids yelling into the fog. I told them it was probably just a weather front moving through and it would clear up soon, but it didn't clear up, it got thicker. Really thick, to the point where you could barely see 10ft ahead. I'd never seen fog that dense, especially not in the middle of a sunny morning. One of the kids asked if it was smoke and another said they smelled something metallic. Even though I didn't smell anything, I stopped the group and did a quick head count to make sure everyone was still together. All 10 kids were accounted for, but they were definitely starting to get a little nervous. Not scared exactly, but unsettled and trying hard to hide it. So I told them we were going to stick close together and keep following the trail markers until we got through this patch of fog. But then things started feeling really off. We kept walking and the trail markers seemed to be further apart than I remembered, even though that was impossible. And after about 20 minutes of walking through the stuff, the kids started acting very, very strange. Oh no. And I'm seriously trying not to be overdramatic here, but bear with me. Kyle. I wonder if that's his real name. Did you change the names? Maybe, maybe not. I don't know.

[A]

I did not change the names. Kyle, you're now famous.

[B]

Kyle, you're famous. Kyle, who is usually the shyest kid in the group, suddenly became really talkative. Like non stop chatter about random stuff. He kept pointing into the fog and talking about things he claimed he could see, even though the rest of us couldn't see anything. Then Joel started humming. He was near the back of the group and I noticed he was walking in perfect rhythm, like each step hit on a beat. The tune wasn't anything I recognized, just five or six notes repeated over and over, low and even. It sounded like something you'd hum to yourself when you're trying not to be scared. Makes sense. When I asked if he was okay, he just nodded and kept walking. Another kid said they'd heard that same tune before in their dream. I tried to redirect. Everyone offered snacks, cracked a dumb joke. No one laughed. That's when I started to feel genuinely off balance, like something had shifted beneath us in a way I couldn't track. The weirdest thing was when Jake, who was definitely a first year camper, started insisting that he'd done this exact hike before. He kept saying he remembered this part of the trail and that we were about to come to a big fallen log across the path when I reminded him this was his first time at camp. He got this confused look on his face, but kept insisting he'd been there before. We stopped for lunch in what seemed like a small clearing Though it was hard to tell with all the fog, the kids were quieter than usual, just sitting there, eating their sandwiches and looking around like they were listening for something. That's when Marcus piped up and asked me about the other counselor who was walking behind us. I asked him what he meant, and he pointed back toward where we'd come from and said there was another counselor following our group. Had been for a while. When I looked back, I couldn't see anyone, and when I asked the other kids, none of them saw what Marcus was talking about. But he seemed really sure about it, Kept looking over his shoulder and waving at whoever he thought was back there. Another boy mentioned that his watch had stopped. I checked mine and it hadn't, but it showed we were well past where we should have been if the hike was going to stay on schedule. So I made a decision to pick up the pace. After lunch, the fog thinned a little. I kept us moving. The trail was technically still visible, but I had a growing sense that we were not quite where we were supposed to be. The trees had changed, more birches than I remembered, and the underbrush was strangely low and brittle, almost crunchy. A couple of kids started dragging their feet and asking how much longer. One of them asked if it was Tuesday or Wednesday. I told him it was Thursday. He looked confused. We passed a fallen tree in the path, and Jake shouted, I told you so. But I knew he'd never been here before. He was one of our few campers from out of state. When we finally broke the tree line and saw the lake again, it didn't feel like a relief. It felt like waking up too fast. Everything was too bright. The fog stopped abruptly right at the camp's northern fence line. Like a curtain had been pulled back. We got back about an hour earlier than scheduled. One of the assistant counselors made a joke about us setting a speed record. I laughed and played it off, said the kids were motivated. But I remember checking my watch three or four times. The math didn't make sense. I didn't think we'd moved that fast and we'd stopped for at least 30 minutes. The kids seemed tired, but otherwise okay, and they went to their afternoon activities like nothing had happened. So I figured maybe I'd just been overthinking the whole thing. Fog happens. Weird stuff happens. Plus, kids are just weird.

[A]

The truth?

[B]

Yeah, Doug. But that night, a couple things happened that stuck with me. First, Kevin, who hadn't wet the bed once all summer, had an accident. Not unusual for kids at camp when they're Stressed or homesick. But Kevin had been great up until then. Then around midnight, I heard David talking in his sleep. He was mumbling something about the man in the woods following us home. When I checked on him, he was still asleep, but he seemed agitated, like he was having a bad dream. Over the next few days, I noticed a few other weird things. Marcus, who had insisted there was another counselor with us, refused to go into the woods again. Every time his activity group was supposed to go in there, he'd find an excuse to stay back at camp. I asked him about it and he couldn't explain why, but maybe that's just a kid thing. Then another kid, I honestly can't remember his name now, came to me one night and said he dreamed of walking a trail that never ended. He said he kept seeing our group up ahead but could never quite catch up, and he looked completely messed up by it. I didn't report anything except Kevin's problem to the camp director because honestly, what would I have said? That my group had a weird experience in some fog and the kids acted strange for a few days afterward? It sounded ridiculous even to me, and I was the one who lived through it. Plus, the kids seemed completely fine by the time their parents came to pick them up. When the summer ended, I went back to college, and it turns out that was my last summer at camp and I'd pretty much forgotten about the whole thing until something happened that brought it all back. I was at the grocery store in my neighborhood doing my usual weekend shopping when I saw someone familiar in the produce section. It took me a minute to place him, but then I realized it was Jake from my cabin that summer. He was older, obviously, probably in college, but definitely the same kid. He recognized me right away and came over to say hi. We chatted for a few minutes about what he was up to now, and he seemed like a totally normal, well adjusted young adult. But then he got this strange look on his face and asked me if I remembered the fog, and that was a gut punch, if there ever was one. Here was this kid I hadn't seen in years asking me about the exact thing I'd been trying not to think about all this time. I told him, yeah, I remembered and asked him what made him think of it. He went quiet for a minute, then said he thought something had stayed with them after that day. Not like haunted, he was quick to clarify. Just like something had come back with us that wasn't supposed to. Then he said something that really got to me, and I know it's Dramatic, but I swear he said it. He said sometimes he wondered if we all made it back completely that day. Like maybe part of us was still out there in the fog, walking that trail over and over. But before I could ask him what he meant, he said he had to go and walked away. I've been thinking about that conversation for a while now. Part of me wants to track down the other kids from that hike and ask them if they remember anything weird. But part of me is afraid of what they might tell me. I still don't know what to make of any of it. Maybe it was just a strange weather event and some kids having bad dreams. Maybe I'm reading too much into a random encounter at the grocery store. But I can't shake the feeling that something happened in that fog that I'm never going to fully understand. And sometimes, late at night, I think about what Jake said about not all of us making it back completely. I wonder if he's right. I wonder if part of us is still out there walking through the fog, trying to find our way home. All right, bye, everybody.

[A]

I thought this one was fitting for July. I guess it happened in July, whatever year this was.

[B]

Yeah.

[A]

I, too, was a summer camp counselor for after college for a few years. I. Actually, there was this. Well, it's gonna make me sound really lame, but it was a summer camp at Yale University for the kids who thought that going there would help them get into Yale. Right.

[B]

I went to the Y. Yale summer camp.

[A]

Yeah, I taught classes. I taught, like, screenwriting classes.

[B]

Oh, okay. So it was more like. It was not like a hike through the woods camp.

[A]

No, no.

[B]

Like, not like a live in a cabin camp. It was like.

[A]

No, you lived in the. You lived in the dorms and taught. We, like. I taught classes in Yale classrooms and stuff. It was a lot. Okay, cool. Yeah. Yeah. And then I did another year at one program that was similar, but for 10 and 12 year olds, which was.

[B]

That's a great age for storytelling.

[A]

No, that's like middle school, where no one knows what's happening.

[B]

And. Yeah, middle. Middle school is a bit like.

[A]

And they're all, like, super awkward. I did it at that camp, actually. One of our kids went missing. Oh, yeah, he went missing for 10 hours.

[B]

Oh, no.

[A]

That was terrifying. So, like, there was massive manhunts that I was off that night, but, like, I had to come back and help organize and run point on this with police and stuff, because there was definitely a thought that, like, we could find this kid in a stairwell or something, you know? Not alive, possibly. Yikes. Yeah. Turns out he'd gone on a field trip, fell asleep on the. And the bus driver never checked. So the kid just woke up the next morning in a different state.

[B]

Woke up in a different state.

[A]

It was New England. So.

[B]

Right. You, like, throw a rock and you

[A]

hit another state, but. Yeah. So that was my terrifying.

[B]

Poor kid. That would be pretty scary to wake up.

[A]

But as a young person, I went to a scout camp that was like this. Where you did the hiking and the boat stuff and the swimming and the gun shooting and stuff like that.

[B]

Yeah, I did a camp that had the hiking and. But not the water stuff, which I was thankful for because I don't like the water.

[A]

And no horrifying fog either, to get back to the story. Yeah. That would have freaked me out if I were the counselor or one of the kids. Yeah.

[B]

I mean, the feeling of being lost is scary enough. Being lost when you're responsible for 10 children is very upsetting.

[A]

And then they're acting weird when you're acting weird when you're counseling, which, I

[B]

mean, kids act weird when they're scared.

[A]

We get to know these kids. And this seems like stuff that he remembered years later, obviously, so it must have stuck with him. And then that the kid remembered it years later, too, is kind of creepy.

[B]

Yeah.

[A]

But anyway, really cool, kind of eerie story. Not frightening like some of the stories we've done, but I liked the eeriness of it and also that it was a summer camp story.

[B]

And, Brian, I am already excited for next month. Can you give me a hint as to where we're going?

[A]

It's been a little while since we've done these kind of little teaser hits, hasn't it? It has, yeah. Well, I will say we're going to bring it back. We're going to the Bay Area in California. And all I'm gonna say is that the legend we're gonna tackle is spooky. And it has an awful lot in common with what happens to be one of this summer's big blockbuster movies backrooms.

[B]

So it's not haunted sourdough?

[A]

It's not haunted sourdough? Nope. But get ready for some really weird kind of liminal spaces. It should be a lot of fun. So we will see you all then, same time, same place, next month, right here on S. Looking forward to it. Sightings is hosted by McLeod Andrews and Brian Sigley. Produced by Brian Sigley, chase Kinzer and McLeod Andrews. Series music by Mitch Bain. Mixing and mastering by Pat Kickliter. Artwork by Nuno Cernadas Sightings is presented by Reverb and Q Code. If you like the show, be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast platform. Platform.