Now, this isn’t a story that is shared often. Hailing from the back country of Idaho, the narrator had encountered numerous individuals who claimed to have witnessed the legendary Sasquatch of the northern hemisphere. Such stories were openly shared in the local bars, widely believed due to the substantial sightings reported by others. However, the narrator experienced a rather distinct encounter that set it apart from the typical Sasquatch tales.
During the fall of 2011, wolves that had been reintroduced into the Idaho wilderness in 1995 were no longer categorized as a protected species. As a result, the region around Stanley, Idaho was heavily populated with wolves, leading to problems such as predation of livestock and pets. In August 2010, the narrator and a group of friends embarked on a challenging 50-mile backpacking expedition through the scenic Sawtooth Mountains, with an intention to indulge in fly fishing at rarely explored lakes hidden off the beaten path.
Accompanied by five horses, with three friends riding and the remaining horses carrying cooking equipment and other essential gear, the group was determined to undertake this adventure. However, the narrator and a friend whom the narrator refers to as Josh decided to add an extra challenge to their journey. Instead of riding, they opted to hike the full 50 miles as they were both preparing to join the military that autumn.
After trekking approximately 10 miles on the first day, the group settled near lake Taxoway for the night. A severe high mountain thunderstorm struck during the night, wreaking havoc by destroying the narrator’s tent and leaving the narrator and their belongings drenched. Thus, the subsequent morning began with a rather foul mood.
In an attempt to lift spirits, Josh proposed a plan. While the rest of the group continued along the planned route to set up camp, the narrator and Josh ventured a few miles off the trail to fish a small lake they had both previously enjoyed visiting. The day was spent fishing, and the duo had an unexpectedly fruitful experience – catching numerous brook trout. Savoring their achievement, they feasted on a few of the trout and indulged in some drinks to boost their morale, sharing a bottle of Jack Daniels that had been deemed worth the extra weight.
As the night began to settle, the narrator awoke around 2 am, perplexed as to what had disturbed their slumber. Soon, the familiar sound of a wolf pack’s howling resonated throughout the mountains. Assuming this had also awakened Josh, the narrator heard the sound of Josh unzipping his sleeping bag, likely reaching for his glock – a gesture reciprocated by the narrator. Though the howling of wolves was nothing out of the ordinary for both experienced hunters and backpackers as they had often encountered them within the region’s wolf-dense habitat, there was an eerie silence that followed. It seemed as if every sound in the vicinity had ceased. Then, an unexpected sound shattered the silence, sending a chill down their spines.
The unsettling noise transitioned from the familiar howling of wolves to a deeper, throatier sound – as though a person was attempting to imitate the wolves’ calls through loudspeakers. The bone-chilling effect left the narrator feeling an unprecedented coldness, almost making them want to curl up in a protective ball. As the unnatural sound ceased, the world gradually returned to its nocturnal symphony. Nonetheless, sleep eluded both the narrator and Josh for the remainder of the night.
The following morning, the pair continued their hike, making jokes about their apprehension from the previous night, attributing their fears to the possibility of a larger-than-average wolf encounter. However, they opted for a different route, considering it a shortcut to meet up with their friends who had set up camp. This path, unexplored by both of them, meandered through dense backcountry that had rarely been traversed by others.
As they pushed forward, conversing and yet inexplicably falling into a nervous and cautious silence, a profound sense of something being amiss engulfed them both. Something felt wrong. It was at this moment that a musky and potent odor, reminiscent of a dog pound, pervaded their surroundings. Another disconcerting moment ensued as they believed they could discern movement in the nearby underbrush.
Forcing their way through the thickening foliage, they finally emerged onto a flat ridge that provided an unobstructed view. As they paused to enjoy a snack, they glanced ahead at the faint smoke arising from their friends’ presumed campfire, approximately two miles away. Engaging in light-hearted banter about the ominous feelings they experienced in the small valley they had passed through, Josh’s sudden silence and the pallor that washed over his face caught the narrator’s attention. Seeking the source of his friend’s gaze, the narrator turned, only to find themselves captivated by a dark, moving entity on the opposing hillside, approximately 400 yards away.
Initially, the narrator struggled to discern the creature’s nature, briefly entertaining the notion of it being another hiker, until the disproportioned size and shape revealed itself. Standing about seven feet tall, judging from its proximity to the surrounding trees, the creature’s legs diverged from the stockiness of a bear, manifesting an athletic build more akin to an Olympic sprinter. With both individuals too far away to scrutinize its features – though they did distinguish cropped ears and a shortened snout – the entity remained motionless. Consumed by awe and trepidation, the narrator contemplated the possibility of its being a bear in a peculiar stance. Suddenly, the creature dropped to all fours and swiftly disappeared into the forest, its departure marked by a chilling, unnatural run. Its arms appeared longer than its legs, propelling it down the hillside at a peculiar angle that resembled a man stooping to crawl on all fours, akin to a theatrical portrayal of a bear crawl. Before the pair could comprehend its speed, it vanished from their sight.
Dazed by the encounter and the flurry of emotions that enveloped them, the narrator and Josh quietly descended the hill, seemingly jogging the two miles to their friends’ camp. Upon arrival, both individuals were sweaty and out of breath. When inquired about their zeal and haste, they offered a cover story about racing to the camp from hilltop. Not wishing to upset a newcomer to the outdoors among their group, they refrained from revealing the true cause for their anxious behavior. The day was spent fishing in the small lake near their friends’ camp, after which everyone enjoyed drinks and indulged in dutch oven cobbler. Later that night, as lanterns were extinguished, the narrator and Josh elected to share a tent, avoiding any discussion about the specter from earlier.
Yet again, around midnight, the narrator found themselves awakening to the sound of slow, rhythmic breathing from Josh and the light snoring emanating from another tent. Within the confines of their tent, it proved challenging to identify the precise source of the sounds. However, the narrator could differentiate the horses’ distressed neighing and pawing at the ground – indicators of anxiety and unease. These observations left the narrator on edge. Then, a familiar guttural howl shattered the stillness of the night, growing progressively louder with each successive call. Paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of fear, the narrator realized that Josh shared the same
Original source: Whatlurksbeneath