Trail Tales 90

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B'lessa somehow figured out how to make the most satisfying mind-blowing vibrators with zero sound, silent without compromising power. And of course, we had to hook all of you up. So our friends at B'lessa are sending out a free Rose suction toy with every single order. You heard that right, retails for $99, but you get it free. All you have to do is click the link in the episode description or head to bbvibes.com slash dark. That's bbvibes.com slash d-a-r-k. Hello everyone and welcome back to National Park After Dark Trail Tales Edition. My name is Danielle. I'm Cassie. Welcome, welcome. We're excited, as always, to tell you some stories. If you have one that you're itching to write into us, go to our website, mpadpodcast.com. We have a submission link and today we have a lot of good ones. Do you want to go first or do you want me to go first? You know, I think I should go first. Okay. And I don't know why I said that. I just feel like. So my first one is the shortest of them all. Oh, okay. But I think we should just kick it off with some family lore. Oh, I like family lore. And I just for full transparency, this email was exceedingly actually long and I just took the second half of it. So that's why I'm short. Okay. Okay. All right. So this one, of course, titled family lore. This story was first told to me by my grandma and I'm going to tell it in much the same way that she told it to me. My grandpa's great grandparents. So they're great, great, great grandparents. Yeah. They're parents, great grandparents. So no, they're grandparents, great grandparents. Oh, whatever. Three greats. I think it's three greats. Three greats away. Came to America from Holland in the Netherlands with their children in 1912. They had to take a train to the port from where they lived and it was a pretty long trip. As you can imagine, several small children got pretty restless on the train. One of them, great uncle Ari, who would have been around 10 years old, stuck his head out of the window of the train. As they were going, a cinder from the steam engine blew back and got into his eye. By the time they got to the coast, it was swollen and full of pus. Since they would be traveling in steerage, they had to pass a health inspection before they would be allowed to board. Ari was denied because they assumed his eye was diseased and the family didn't speak enough English to explain that he was not sick. He was just merely injured. So they were faced with the choice to split up the family or give up their place on the ship. Well, there was no way that my ancestors were going to leave any family behind. So the decision was made and they did not board the Titanic. Oh, wow. Okay. So now it nearly. So now nearly every generation since has named an Ari in honor of the rambunctious little boy who inadvertently saved the entire family. My grandma had a very, very old newspaper clipping also telling the story which she showed us after since the headline gave the story away. She has since passed away and I have no idea where it is now or even if someone has it. And then it just ends. That's all. I don't know who this is from or where they are now, but you were saved by Ari. You know, sometimes bad things are blessings and disguises. As soon as I read 1912 originally and ship, I knew where this was going. You're like, no one would have the audacity to write me in a 1912 ship story that was not the Titanic. That's right. Yeah. So thank you, whoever you are. And I think it's also really cool that the family collectively over generations have just all agreed that we need to keep Ari alive in some way. Yeah, that's a good luck charm. You have a good luck family member. That's a lot of pressure for whoever gets that name to live up. It's like you will bring good things to this family. You will bring honor on this family. Yeah. For generations. You are the chosen one. I hope you like that name because you're bound to it. But anyway, okay. So I thought that would be cool. That's fun. Okay. My first story is titled, A Masterclass in Dry Socks and Humility. Hey, ladies. First of all, I have to say how much I'm loving your podcast. I came to it a little late, mid to late 2025, fashionably behind as usual, after a colleague recommended it and now I'm hooked. The stories are so vivid and well told that I've even recommended the show to my high school students for a bi-weekly podcast assignment they have to do. Lively engaging, just the right amount of edge. It's such a good listen. We're teaching the youth. I recently talked about pressure. Wait, what are the high schoolers? Yeah. Okay. So they, I don't feel bad about cursing them. I just want to know if they think I'm cool. You know, I haven't talked to a high schooler in a while and I just don't know am I, am I aging well? Would high school me think I was cool? That's really hard to say. Please only write in if you think I'm cool because otherwise it'll hurt my feelings. I was going to say that's a risk that you're asking the youth. Maybe it's better not to know. Okay. I recently listened to your 2022 episode, Surviving the Worst Weather on the Planet, White Mountain National Forest, and it immediately unlocked a core memory, my own ill-advised attempt to conquer the beast herself, Mount Washington. Ah, a homeland, a home state story. For context, my dad and his brother were raised feral in the wholesome, Boy Scout wilderness survival kind of way. Nauts, compass bearings, merit badges, the whole aesthetic. Naturally, when they had kids, they raised us the same way. Our childhood photos are less Disney World and more mud cake children triumphantly holding walking sticks. We practically memorized Cuyahoga Valley National Park before it even earned the National Park blow up. When I was 10, my aunt and uncle just moved outside of Boston, which my dad and uncle interpreted as a divine sign to expand their hiking territory. Every fall, we'd fly into Boston Logan International Airport. The moms would disappear for a well-earned girls weekend, and the dads would load up four children like we were heading into battle and drive north to the White Mountains. Year one, magical. Crunchy leaves, crisp air, moose spotting like we were on the National Geographic. Okay, I don't believe you, but- Where are they? The White Mountains of New Hampshire. Oh, right, yeah. Moose spotting. Again, never had the pleasure. Moose are not real, and I stand by that. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that the rest of your story is real. For the sake of the story, we'll accept it. We belted out, Wright said, Fred's, I'm too sexy at the base of Old Man of the Mountain back when his granite profile still ruled the cliffside. It was idyllic, rugged, slightly ridiculous. So of course, we went back the next year. Late October arrived at Joe Dodge Lodge in Pinkham Notch, Gateway to the Mountain. Day one, absolute perfection. Mid-50s, golden light. We hiked to Crystal Cascade and thought, if tomorrow's like this, we're in for a dream hike. Then we woke up the next morning, snow. Not dramatic, not blizzard level yet, just that persistent, quiet snow that looks peaceful from the inside of a warm lodge and feels very different once you're standing in it with a backpack on. But did that stop us? Of course not. This was pre-smartphone. No one was Googling, is this a terrible idea? We had confidence. We had snacks. We had baseball caps to keep our heads warm. Baseball caps in all caps. We set off via the Tuckerman Reveen Trail 4.1 miles up, which means over eight miles round trip. We decided to pace ourself, which in hindsight just meant prolonged exposure to worsening doom. The snow kept falling and falling and falling. By mile two, I was a walking cautionary tale. Cold, wet, hungry, dead last in the lineup and fully at peace with that position. Our gear was laughable. Standard pants, thin thermals, sweatshirts, basic winter jackets, basic socks on our feet, and those tragic knitted gloves that turn into 20 pound ice sponges the moment they see moisture. I always had those. I had an aunt who would knit them for us and they were always so cute and it was so nice, they keep you warm as long as you don't get wet. We pressed on because pride is powerful. Eventually we reached a small hut to regroup. My cousin Rebecca and I had fallen approximately 20 bajillion times and could no longer feel our fingers. The trading post at the base had zero spare gloves, so we ditched the heavy knit gloves and pulled spare socks over our hands instead. It wasn't glamorous, but it was warmer. Meanwhile, my cousin had been complaining about his toes. My uncle pulled off his boots expecting bunched up socks. Nope. Soaked toes turning blue. There is nothing that will sober a hiking group faster than seeing a nine year old's toes auditioning for hypothermia. Thankfully, because Be Prepared is apparently code for Pac-47 spare socks, my dad had extras. Dry socks were deployed, feet were salvaged, circulation was restored. Boy Scouts won, Mother Nature currently winning, but it was pretty close. At this point, I was done spiritually, physically, emotionally composing my will. One of… Spiritually composing my will is perfect. One of the dads went ahead to scout the trail and think every guardian angel in the White Mountains ran into a descending hiker who warned him not to continue, especially with four kids. Half a mile up, the trail turned steep and required serious rock scrambling. In a snowstorm on a mountain famous for casually recording hurricane force winds, we packed it in. The boys protested, the 14 and 9 year old, not the grownups. Pride flared, but common sense finally won. We slid, skidded, and half fell our way back down. I mentally directed an entire sock puppet musical to distract myself. It was layered, it was nuanced, it deserved a Tony. We stumbled back into the lodge, thought out in front of the fire, cradled mugs of cocos like survivors of a minor arctic expedition, and laughed nervously about what our mothers would say when they found out. Now, whenever I hear Mount Washington mentioned, alongside words like extreme, unpredictable, or highest wind speeds ever recorded, I don't feel brave, I feel lucky. Lucky no fingers were lost, lucky no toes were sacrificed, lucky that somewhere between pride and poor planning, a stranger on the trail decided to speak up. Mother nature absolutely humbles, but also lets you leave sometimes with just a story and a newfound respect for dry socks. Alyssa. Mm-hmm. Mount Washington, don't sleep on it. Yeah. You say that all the time. I can really picture this whole story too because that trail that they did is where I took my Abbey course. Oh really? Yeah. I like the same thing and I know exactly where it gets to the rock scrambles. That's where you're like in Techerman's ravine before you get to the summit and you're kind of in a bowl which shields you from the really high winds and awful weather so I can see how their dad at that point was like, you know, it's not too bad. Let's keep going and a hiker coming down be like, oh no. Yeah, turn back now. Please. Turn back now. You got to get out of here. Especially with kids, yeah. Yeah. Ready to launch your business? Start it with the commerce platform made for entrepreneurs. 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I've been a listener since the very beginning and have had some trail tail adjacent stories before, but none that ever hit so close to my biggest fear as an outdoorsy person. Last year, I met and started dating my boyfriend Dan. We live in Texas and frequently drive about three hours to Hochatown, Oklahoma on the edge of Washington National Forest for weekend getaways. The Hochatown area backs up to the National Forest and an Oklahoma State Park, so there's very dense forest. The town is almost entirely made up of Airbnbs and rental properties with around 250 permanent residents, but the population skyrockets over the weekends as Dallas residents like us flock here to get away from the city. This holiday season, we decided to spend with Dan's family and rent what is basically a mansion in the woods for all 16 of us, plus a new puppy Gizmo to stay in before Christmas. The long weekend was full of sweets, games, family time, and the two of us taking plenty of hikes to get away from the aforementioned family time. One thing to know about my relationship is that I am the outdoorsy one. I'm an avid hiker with a life goal of summiting the highest peaks in each U.S. state. When friends ask if he likes hiking, my response is, well, Dan likes me and I like hiking, so he hikes. Needless to say, we did a lot of hiking, as you should. One hour last night after dinner, I was pretty tired from a day in the state park and also feeling peopled out from being around everyone for four days straight. Dan suggested we go out in the backyard and partake in some herbal remedies to relax a bit. His family is very against said herbal remedies, so we wandered closer to the edge of the woods to get away from the house in case a sister or a nephew came outside. While smoking and looking out into the darkness of the forest, we heard the sound of an animal in the leaves about 10 to 15 feet away. Our first thought was this must be a deer, because there was a deer feeder on the property that we had been watching with little kids for the past few days. We listened closer and I realized those footsteps seemed a bit too heavy to be a deer. And here is where I reveal my biggest fear, mountain lions. My eyes start adjusting to the darkness and I realize, oh shit, that is a mountain lion. And then we hear a hiss. At this point, I don't say to my city slicker boyfriend that A, I know what this creature is or B, that it could definitely kill us and we are way, way, way too close. So as calmly as I can, while face to face with my biggest fear, I said, let's just back away and get back up onto the porch. Because the last thing I wanted to do was cause alarm and make him want to run. I've listened to enough outdoor podcasts to know that in this situation, you do not run. It was like fighting every instinct to back away slowly and not just make a mad dash up the stairs. While we were backing up and trying to move away, we can still hear the cat hissing and taking slow steps towards us. Finally, we make it up onto the stairs on the porch where we can see the mountain lion, but aren't in immediate reach like we were before. When watching a predator from a distance, it's really beautiful. The way it moves in stocks is amazing, but terrifying to realize that that is exactly what it was doing to us. We finally go inside once it had determined the midnight snack. Us, two grown adults, weren't feasible prey and wandered back into the woods. I found the parents of Gizmo the puppy to let them know to keep a very watchful eye when taking him out potty since we'd been letting him run around the yard the entire time we had been there. Not to end the story on a downer, but the next morning when packing up the cars, I was outside with Dan's sister-in-law when an older gentleman approached us. He asked, I was wondering if you two might have seen a Chihuahua running around here. He got out last night and we can't find him. Oh my god. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his Chihuahua was most likely a cougar snack. On the drive back to Dallas, I loaded up an episode of Tooth and Claw and Dan got to hear Wes explain just how much damage the creature we were 10 feet away from just 12 hours ago could have done. His conclusion was, I'm glad we didn't hear that podcast on the way up here. Thanks for all of the years of stories and I'm looking forward to many, many more. Enjoy the view, but watch your back, especially when wandering into the woods to get away from family. Anna. I'm just going to assume that someone took in the Chihuahua for the night and it was fine. Okay. Let's live there. Yeah. In that space. That's where I do live all the time. We just did a really nice dog episode, so I had to bow. Okay. I've been crushing out about dogs recently. Chaska is getting much old. Chaska is showing his age a lot in recent weeks and I'm having a very difficult time. So sad dog things are just kind of like my, I hate technology so much because my entire algorithm is sad dog things. You have to click that you're not interested. When you look at a post, I think it's in the bottom right or the top right. There's three dots. Okay. And you click that and you do not interested. Wow. Okay. I'm going to do that. It'll change your whole algorithm. Thank God because it's every maybe three or four videos or posts, even from people I don't follow, of course it suggests things to you. It's all about pet grief and putting your dog down or sad situations or whatever. I'm just like, I know. It's like get away from me. I can't handle this right now. You're making it worse. So yeah, good tip. Facebook, I think I was kind of recent or I recently noticed it is they actually have a tab on the bottom now that is you click friends and it only shows a friend's feed. But no one posts on Facebook, so it doesn't really matter. It's like just watching. Okay, Facebook. I know you say you're there for your, you have a lot of family on there still. Yeah. Yeah, I'm not on it enough to do that, but it's yeah, it is strange. It's like, why would I, I'm not following these people for a reason. I don't need, is your algorithm all bang still? Honestly, I've been taking, so the past, I guess only two days, it's only been two days. I've been taking a social media hiatus. Okay, good. So I don't know what it is. Break free from the bangs. You're not going to, you don't need that right now. I don't need that in my life. You were close. You were close. I was close. It couldn't get me. All right, my next story is titled, Silent Fury and Karma that made my day. Hey y'all, it's Kelly and one girl who didn't know how to make a bingo card for the year. I'm just a girl, okay? I know. Oh. Kelly is on her outsiders and she, I see her on our live streams and our book club and our, she was in our live stream and we did a bingo card and I think she only got one. Yeah, I'm like, okay, now you have to come up with 25 more or whatever the amount was. Okay. First, I'll start off by saying thank you for creating such an amazing space for myself and others to feel connected to kindred spirits. You too and what you have created were something I didn't know I needed until I found you. Thank you. That's very nice. You've helped me to understand my place in this world in more ways than one and I'm forever grateful for you two for that. Okay, got that out of the way. Now for my trail tale, that as a woman made me furious. I'll change everyone's name except mine for privacy, although I know they don't listen because well, they're just stupid and don't know what they're missing. I'm here for that energy. My home park is Cuyahoga Valley National Park about two hours from where I live. Yes, it's quaint. It's not your average bucket list and it's relatively new, but damn, it's beautiful. Imagine a cascading forest, vast valley overlooks, waterfalls with swimming holes with crystal clear water, marshes and so much wildlife. I go here every single year because it holds a very special place in my heart. Now for the tale. Last June, 2025, I invited my brother-in-law who is outdoor savvy and overly confident to go on a hiking journey through Cuyahoga with my husband and I. We will call my brother-in-law John and my husband, Smith. I did all the planning for this trip, booked our campsites at a Christmas tree farm, smelled so good, mapped out what trails we use, how far we will walk, etc. I shared all this information with John and Smith well before the trip. We got there Friday night, set up camp as the sunset on the Christmas tree farm and cooked dinner over the campfire. Great night and ready for the long hike ahead of us tomorrow. The next morning, we woke up early to get started. We met at the Boston Mill Visitor Center to talk to the rangers since this was during the recent government shutdown. I let them know we were going to be hiking all the way up to the Jate Historic District and looping back and finishing there. This ranger looked at me, eyebrows raised and said in a very doubtful tone, you're hiking that. I smiled with my teeth gritted and said, yep, but what I wanted to say was, bitch, do not underestimate me. They let us know there are no bathrooms to use on that trail and no water refill stations. No problem, I'm ready. We started hiking and everything was amazing as usual. Visited my favorite waterfall, trucked on through the marshes with low visibility at our feet where my foot came within six inches of the mouth of a basking snapping turtle. Scary, but they literally don't give a shit about you. I admired it and moved on. I let the boys know I was running low on water as we were coming up to the halfway point, which was at the Jate Historic District. Well, I found out that the boys had been out of water for at least an hour at this point. Are you kidding me? It was 90 degrees out that day and you didn't bring enough water to make it to fill whatever. No problem, not mine. Stay away from my precious water. We are so close to the halfway point and the boys look at the map on John's phone using Google Maps while I'm trying to tell the guys, guys, I'm using all trails and I can show you where we can likely get water. The ranger station is probably close, completely ignored. Guys, I think we should just walk the extra mile to the historic district for water, completely ignored. What happened? We walked to the fucking ranger station that was half a mile out of the way and guess what? It was closed. No water to be found. Okay, no problem. I'll just sit here simmering in my feminine fury thinking I should have left their asses in the dust because now I'm out of water and it's 90 degrees. After they sit and have their nice little pout session, we get back on the trail and walk the half mile back and head for the Jate Historic District. We walk to one of the buildings and find a spigot on the side of one of the old houses and it works. Oh my gosh. Wow, a girl found water. She must be a witch. We fill our water bottles and sit at one of the picnic tables to eat some lunch. On our hike back down towards Boston Mill where we started, I made a comment to Smith, my husband, that John is walking way too fast and running up really steep hills to get it over with quicker and he needs to slow down. Not because I can't keep up but because he's going to feel like absolute shit tomorrow morning. Slow and steady wins the race buddy. It's a marathon and not a sprint but I digress. We get back to camp mid-afternoon after 10 and a half miles of hiking. I'm exhausted. I drink a Gatorade and sleep for a couple of hours. Smith and I cooked dinner over the campfire and we head into our tents for the night. The next morning, I woke up feeling great, hungry and ready for more hiking. But I don't know, guess who feels like shit? John. Poor John had a tummy ache, could hardly eat breakfast and walked like a slug to Beaver Creek the late morning. Thankfully, my good karma and his bad karma blessed my day because he left early to drive home that morning. I was able to enjoy the rest of the day there with my husband, Smith, and also bring his ass for ignoring me all day before. Smith and I also went to pay our respects to the Balto at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History during this trip. Anyway, I hope this tale helps other women or soft-spoken men feel more empowered to speak up when their voice is being overcrowded by men who just assume they know better than you. I know the next time I go hiking with John, I won't be so forgiving for that behavior. If you guys find yourself wanting to check out Kaya Hoga, please feel free to get a hold of me and I'll show you all the best spots at this small and charming national park. PS, I know this story makes me sound like a total bitch but I promise I'm about as calm as they come. Love ya. K, bye. It's like, speak up for yourself, ladies. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry. I'm not a bitch but I'm just advocating for you. It's true though. I totally get the sentiment behind it. I think and we've actually in some episodes that I've researched, I've read just some different studies they've done about group dynamics and how it is really common that when there are men and women in a group that men become a dominating voice over women and women can feel like they can't speak up in a lot of situations. So I feel like that is definitely a conversation that needs to be had a little bit more. I think it's also extremely frustrating just as they mentioned in the very beginning, they did all of this background research, all this prepping with itinerary and hikes and just did their due diligence of looking into things. It's not like she's just saying things to say them. And meanwhile, I'm sure this guy just showed up and decided to rule the roost and that would in and of itself, whether it's you're a man or a woman doing that, it's like you, okay, I am the one who just spent all this time. But I'm prepared. Yeah, like I'm prepared and I shared this with you beforehand, you know, like, I don't know, people who just show up and try and run things when they clearly don't have a like to stand on pisses me off. And it pisses me off because I'm usually the one doing all the other research. But I'm also pretty direct and I don't know if I would have a problem. I don't know, actually, I take that back. I am direct. I just, I don't really love confrontation. Yeah. So I don't know. It's tough because in a situation like that, it gets, it depends on how mad I am already to start the day. Depends on what day you get me. That's right. Okay, my last story is titled Southern Maine is a haunted place. Hi, Cassie and Danielle. I'm a huge fan of the podcast and have been listening for years. Thank you for inspiring me to travel and hike. You truly don't know how much this podcast means to me, but my story is so long, so I got a cut to the chase. I am from the Southern Maine slash New Hampshire area and my trail tale takes place in York, Maine. I want to add a content warning here since I'll be talking about Maine's history of slavery. New ladies have created a platform that I think will appreciate the importance of the story. So I hope you read it and share it with everybody. I work second shift at a hotel in York and usually leave work around 11pm. At the time of the story, I was living in an apartment without a washer or dryer and had to take my clothes to the laundromat up the road. Since I work late, I'm usually up late and when I do my laundry, it's in the middle of the night. One night last year, I left work, picked up my boyfriend and we went to the laundromat. His company was always greatly appreciated because laundromats at 12am can be a little creepy, so we'd usually get some snacks and drive around while we waited for my clothes to dry. Side note slash mini trail tale, he is now my fiance and he proposed on a hike. This particular night though, I thought it would be romantic to drive over to the harbor. For those unfamiliar with York, it is a touristy beach town in the summer and a ghost town in the winter. It is loaded with historical buildings and beautiful rocky shores, delicious food and the kindest locals. On the scenic route to Long Sands Beach, there is a road called Lylac Lane. About 30 seconds on this road just before you drive over the river to pass all the cute little boats, you'll see a green bridge on your right called Wiggly Bridge. There are stairs that connect to a dock down below and a dog friendly trail that leads to a tiny island on the river. In the fall, the green bridge contrasting against the red and orange foliage is picturesque New England and it's one of those sites that just makes me feel grateful to live in this area. So, this is where my partner and I found ourselves on that night. Except it was February at about 12am. Everyone asks why we were there at midnight and to that I say, God forbid a girl tried to be a little romantic. At first, everything was fine. We walked down the stairs to the dock, stargazed and had a cheeky little kiss under the moonlight. But then, the energy shifted. All of a sudden, a thought came barreling into my brain like a truck. We are not supposed to be here. We looked at each other and booked it up the stairs. There weren't any streetlights but the moon was bright enough that if someone had been there, we would have seen them. But we saw nothing. This was not just a hairs on the back of my neck standing up type of feeling. My entire spine felt like it was going to fly out of my body. We rushed to the car, locked the doors and sped out of the harbor towards the gas station. I needed to be somewhere where there was light and people and snacks. But that feeling in my spine followed me the entire way there. Flash forward to about a year later, in real time, this was last week, I am currently a student at a community college slowly chipping away at my history degree. This semester, I am taking a course on Maine history and there have been so many times that I recognize a name or a place in the material. This particular week, our assigned readings were about Colonial Maine and we had to read an article about the Sayward Wheeler House. This is a colonial house that had been preserved by Historic New England and hardly changed since it was built in 1719. As a historic site, you can take tours in the summer and learn about the families that own the house. It is located, you guessed it, across from Wiggly Bridge. This article tells the history of the Saywards and Wheelers and it talks about the various enslaved people they had over the years. I think Maine often gets left out of conversations about slavery because people assume all Northerners were abolitionists, but this is simply not true. On top of that, not only was Maine involved in the transatlantic slave trade, but the colonists also enslaved indigenous peoples as well. One man in particular was named Bonito. We know from historical records that Bonito was bought by Joseph Sayward in 1730, but we don't know what his fate was. It's hard to find first-hand accounts from enslaved people, so most of what we know comes from receipts of people being bought and sold. In the article by Historic New England, the last paragraph haunts me where they suggest perhaps Bonito escaped. Quote, that the indigenous communities had the advantages of familiarity of the land and family and friends who could help them escape was one reason the European colonists began importing enslaved people of African and Caribbean descent. End quote. So I'm sure that's what they found as part of their research. So not only did they enslave the people of the land they stole, but they kidnapped people from a whole other continent to enslave on the basis that it would be harder for them to escape their conditions. This was the only paranormal experience I have had in my life so far, and learning about the story felt like finding a missing puzzle piece. People like Bonito escaped the horrors of slavery from right here, from this harbor, this area that I know and love and work in. Plus, there are countless others who did not have the same knowledge of the terrain. Did Bonito haunt me? Did someone else? I don't know. But in a way, I'm almost glad I had that experience. My boyfriend and I felt something, an energy. Another one of my friends crossed the Wiggly Bridge once and when she got to the island, she couldn't find the trailhead. She said she circled the island for over an hour and felt the same exact energy shift before finally finding an exit. Now I know why we had these experiences and I want to tell everyone about what I learned. I still love Maine and I'm grateful to have grown up here, but I wish I had learned about this earlier. I can't change our public school curriculum, but I can learn about these things on my own now. Danielle, I know you mentioned on the pod that you want to fall back in love with New England, so maybe this tour is something you would appreciate in the daytime, of course. I'll also throw some book recommendations and articles below for those interested. York County is a very haunted place. Anyway, that's my story. Enjoy the view, but learn about the land you live on and tell these stories of the people who lived there before you. Also, maybe don't go to Laundromats at midnight s. I really like that story because I think it kind of encompasses why we do the podcast and it's just being able to connect history and stories to the locations that you're visiting and whatever that looks like. And in this case, it's a pretty dark history of Maine and a lot of ours are as well. And I think that once you go to a location and you learn about stuff like this, you never look at it the same and that's not a bad thing. Yeah, I guess I'll have to go check out Wiggly Bridge area since it's not too far away from where I am. I'm in Southern Maine as well. So I might have driven past it or even threw it or on it or whatever many times before and just have no idea. But now you're inspired. I know. Yeah, I know. Jamie Lang and Sophie Haboo have arrived on Disney Plus. We're having a baby. We're having a baby. I've always wanted to be a mum. And we're bringing you on our journey through everything. I have no idea what we're doing. Thank you. I have more of an idea. I think of it like a Tamagotchi at the end of all of this. We're going to have a little baby. Raising Chelsea, a Hulu original series streaming exclusively on Disney. 18 plus subscription required T since he's apply. My last story is titled High Altitude Lightning, not recommended. Hi, ladies, discovered you while out on an epic RV trip out west via podcast search National Park deaths. I love that two of my favorite things exploring state and national parks and murder in the macabre is the inspiration and theme for the park. I felt feel so lucky and listen every single week. Now onto my amazing state park internship that also nearly killed me. Back in 1985, I was a 20 year old forestry major and doing a summer internship with North Carolina State University and the Environmental Protection Agency to gather data and the decline of spruce firs stands in the Appalachian Mountains. The three other researchers were grad school, government, and state parks. The others were grad school guys. It was an awesome assignment. Winky face. Oh, oh, okay. We were based at the top of Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi River. Our primary mission was cloud collection. You read that right. Anytime there were cloud events very common at 6,684 feet of elevation, we took turns climbing a 36 foot high aluminum tower every 30 minutes and collecting the liquid that had been captured in the cloud catcher and funneled into a container. I am so tempted to go into full on science nerd detail here, but I fear I will lose you or other non nerds. So I will carry on. There was. I'm glad you kind of explained it because where my brain went was so dumb. What that looked like. I had this vision of somebody climbing in a jar. Yes. Yeah, like climbing up the ladder and having just like a vial and just like swooping it through a cloud, corking it. It's like, got it. It's so much more complicated. I'm sure. Yeah, but we're down to try it. There were several ways I could have easily died that summer. Being alone in the pitch black forest, we shared with black bear and slipping and falling from an 80 foot tower in the rain being the front runners, but there was also lightning. It was summer, so there were plenty of thunderstorms. One site on the mountain was considered safer than the other for riding out these potentially dangerous storms pre cell phone. Of course. So we communicated via walkie talkies. What a hoot that they were actually called that and each site while lacking electricity and plumbing did have landline phones. One day, a particularly fear storm was brewing and the weather radio insisted we hunker down. I was alone at the time and had no idea where the guys were, but I high tailed it to site one. As I got out of the Jeep to unlock the metal security gate, an earth shattering clap of thunder and nearly simultaneous lightning scared the shit out of me. It was clearly right overhead and left me seeing stars. I practically army crawled soaking wet to the little work building and sat on the floor praying that this would pass quickly. I was really concerned about the guys since I hadn't heard a word from them. So when the phone rang, I stupidly grabbed it to hopefully hear everyone was okay. Instead of reassuring news, a bolt of lightning went through the phone line. To this day, I don't know how, but it literally threw me into the wall as I threw the offending phone away from me and into the other wall. It was so loud, intense and scary that I kind of blacked out for a minute and then gave myself a once over. My ears were ringing and my heart was racing, but I was indeed alive and unharmed. Yes friends, lightning can travel through landlines. One more reason to let them go for good. Thanks again for your company and stories every week and also kudos for leaving a job that didn't serve you. Vet tax works so hard and are so underpaid to pursue and build a career that you love. Happy trails and stay off the mountain and thunderstorms. Jill. Ugh. So many people have been struck by lightning. I know. I was just thinking how many episodes on lightning do you think we've done? Probably like five or six. You think that many? It feels like a lot. It feels like we talk about it lightning a lot, but I'm talking about like pure, fully dedicated episodes. Well, my Jenny Lake Rangers one was a lightning one. You did the Spark Ranger. I did the Yosemite Lightning Strike one. So we got three. We got three for sure. And then Trail Tales, we've had a few lightning stories thrown in. I think maybe just because they're so memorable and impactful that it feels like so much more. Yeah, I've been wanting to and at some point I will. I did the Jenny Lake Rangers Lightning Strike one, which was horrific and awful, but there's actually a worse one in the same location. Or I shouldn't say worse, but larger rescue mission that occurred in the same location because of lightning strikes as well. That happened more recently than that story I told. So there's no one. So stay tuned, I guess. Stay tuned. I'm going to announce that it's coming soon because I haven't even began researching it, but it's been on my mind ever since I researched that one five years ago. Five years ago. Yeah, I've known about this for a long time. I've been sitting on it. Oh, this one. Okay. Yeah. All right. Yeah. Okay. Okay. Great. This is not related to lightning at all, but they mentioned very briefly walkie talkies. I feel like walkie talkies were everywhere growing up, at least in my world. I had them so like I use them frequently. My brother and I had them each in our room and we'd talk at night. Yeah. And you talk and things. Yeah. The most recent memory of walkie talkies I had was when Ian and I were driving to Washington, he had his Toyota and I was in my Jeep and we were like caravanning. Is it a caravan if there's only two of you? I don't know, technically or not, but either way, we were following each other. And instead of we knew that there was going to be long stretches where we wouldn't have cell phone service and we'd want to talk to each other. So we got walkie talkies. That's so cute. And they worked. Not all the time, but they worked enough to make it fun. Yeah. And then yeah, the batteries ended up dying and that was it. And we never picked him back up again, but that was my last memory of a walkie talkie. They're fun. That's a recent memory. I mean, mine's from when I was like nine. Yeah. I brought him back. Yeah, we did. I don't know whose idea it was. I don't know if I should take credit for it or not. I feel like it was Ian's idea. Yeah. I'll give it to him. He's like, but I want to talk to you. Yeah. Yeah. Cool. Well, thanks everyone for sending in your stories. We, as always, have bonus stories for outsiders on Patreon and Apple subscriptions. Mine is titled Dingos in the Dark. Oh, shit. Mine is late night cheesy bread, which I personally. You're welcome to. You're welcome to. We're giving you. I don't know what it is yet, but I know that I relate. Okay, great. But we were just also recently kind of talking about the lava cakes from Domino's. Yeah, I haven't tried them still. I haven't gotten them still. But that day I was like, that's it. I'm getting them today. So now I want to do bread too. Mmm. Domino's did it. I know I'm not gonna. But it's a nice wish. It's so good. You just feel awful after. I know. And that's the thing. I don't. But it's kind of worth it. It's like I used to be able to drink so much and just rally so quickly after I would drink and have cheesy bread at the same time. Like, yeah, ideally, yeah. The perfect night. That would happen. That's how it ended your night. That's where this probably comes in. It's late night cheesy bread. I too. I've had late night cheesy bread. Yeah. God, good times. They were the best of times. They were the worst of times. Definitely the worst of times. All right. Well, let's go find out what this cheesy bread and dingos are all about. And you can find out with us over on those other places, subscription places. If not, we will see you next week. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch your back. Bye. Bye. Thanks for joining us for another episode. We hope you learned something new and have another location to put on your list. If you want more MPAD content, make sure to follow along with our adventures on all socials at National Park After Dark. For more stories just like this one with the added bonus of exclusive content, you can join us on Patreon or Apple subscriptions. If you prefer to watch our episodes, head over to our YouTube channel. And if you're enjoying the show, please take a moment to rate, review and subscribe on your favorite listening platform. My name is Sarah Turni. I spent years fighting for justice for my missing sister, Alyssa Turni, before an arrest was finally made in her case after nearly 20 years. But after my experience with the media, law enforcement and the court system, I knew I couldn't stop with Alyssa's case. I know what it's like to fight for media attention, for answers, and for justice. After I stopped telling my sister's story, I knew I wanted to help as many other victims, survivors and families as I could. On my podcast Voices for Justice, I provide unique insight into these tragic cases, because I know what it's like to not just listen to these stories, but to live them. And more importantly, how to help them by being a true voice for justice. Listen to Voices for Justice in your favorite podcast player today. You can be so much more than just a passive consumer of true crime. You have the power to help.