Where is Skull Valley?Quote:
Originally Posted by gloo
Printable View
Where is Skull Valley?Quote:
Originally Posted by gloo
I've read a couple of stories about the Escalante Desert around Modena and Lund. Here's a link to one story:
http://www.rense.com/general/utah.htm
Looks like I'll be shopping at Amazon as soon as I finish Blood and Thunder.
Win
I'm watching a show called "Finding Bigfoot" on Animal Planet. They are in northern Georgia. Will the elusive creature be found? :lol8:
I've heard something strange is always happening out there too.Quote:
Originally Posted by gloo
When I was in High School some friends and I went to the Ogden Cemetery and saw Florence "Flo" the ghost. Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.
its the valley west of tooele. http://maps.google.com/maps?q=skull+...ed=0CBsQ8gEwAAQuote:
Originally Posted by jbdavies
I remember a few years back in the Henry's reading a guest book at a campsite, trail registers, summit registers about alien visits and alien anal probing.
hope you succeed :haha: :2thumbs:
Hmmm... that's not too far away!Quote:
Originally Posted by gloo
Here is an interesting one I read online (not mine)
I grew up in Salt Lake City, across the alley from a kid named Ron. When we were like 14 a kid named Nick moved in down the street. Nick wasn’t a Mormon but joined our scout troop, and the three of us became good friends. As scouts, we used to camp all the time at this place called Stansbury Island in the Great Salt Lake. In dry years when the lake was low it was really just a peninsula, but even when the lake was high you could get out to the island on a causeway. It was basically a little range of mountains that stuck up out of the lake. We had a great Scoutmaster who used to take us camping two times a month, most of the time to Stansbury. It was not that great of a place to camp, but we kind of felt like it was our place. We never saw anyone else out there.
When we were Juniors, Nick and I started partying and hanging out less with Ron. After we graduated, I went back east for college, Ron went to the U for a while before going on a Mormon mission, and Nick worked at Arby’s. After my Freshman year I spent the whole summer in Salt Lake working at a refinery, so I hung out with Nick and other friends from high school. The next summer I was only in Salt Lake for a few weeks. By that time Nick had started at the community college and was hanging out with these angst ridden poets, actors and other dorks. They didn’t like me much and the feeling was mutual. Nick’s gothish girlfriend wouldn’t call me by name, but always called me “frat boy.” She was a peach. Nick had started to do pot and acid and other stuff with his poet buddies, but I really didn’t care about any of that and we still had a good time when we went out with some of the old crowd.
Ron got home that winter from his mission in Argentina. I talked to him a few times over the school year and we agreed it would be fun to get together for a campout the next summer on Stansbury. I called Nick about going and he thought it was a great idea, and made sure that I had called Ron. We picked a date during the week I was going to be in Salt Lake that summer. Nick said he would call a couple of other guys who had been in our troop.
It turned out that just me, Nick and Ron could go. Nick had just totaled his beloved Firebird so we took Ron’s car, or actually his little brother’s car (little brother was now on a mission). It was a little Japanese station wagon, I think a Subaru. Ron picked me up at my mom’s and then we went and picked Nick up at his apartment in west Salt Lake. We had all been good friends, and it didn’t take long before we were conversing as comfortably as we had when we were 15.
Nick said he had been camping out at Stansbury a few times and that he had found some really cool spots, including an old mine, on the east side of the island (the road runs along the west side). We had always camped on the north end, and had never really been over there when we were scouts.
The car died on the way out there, right after we got off I-80 and started heading towards the island. I can’t remember what the problem was, but Ron said that you just had to let the car sit for half an hour. We waited and sure enough it started. We ended up camping in a spot about halfway down the island, where Nick said you could hike over the mountain to these cool spots he had found.
We brought KFC that night for dinner and ended up talking around the fire until 2 or 3 in the morning. I remember it was a full moon and that you could see your shadow at night. We had pop tarts for breakfast and went bunny hunting in the morning with 22s (I had a 10/22 and Ron had a lever action, I think a Marlin). We always did that but I don’t ever remember seeing very many rabbits out there. There were more cattle on Stansbury than wabbits.
At about 10 we left camp and took the Subaru up this little jeep trail that led to a water tank. Nick told us to bring some flashlights and he brought a rope. He led us to a foot trail that went to the east side of the island. About halfway down the mountain the trail led to this rock face kind of shaped like a bowl, and on the south side of it there was an old mine. It was a horizontal shaft heading southwest. Somebody had put steel bars over the door, but they had been pulled off and were lying on the ground. I remember sitting down to get all of the stickers out of my socks while the other two were talking.
The mine was a about six feet high, so me and Ron had to stoop a little. It was about three feet wide. After about 10 feet we came to T, and Nick had us take a right so we were heading pretty much directly north. We probably went about 150 feet or so, and by this time it would have been pitch black if not for the flashlights. The tunnel was straight but going down a little until it came to a big pit. The pit was only about 10 feet deep but it was at least that wide. There a piece of metal sticking out of the rock in the floor. Nick wrapped the middle of the rope around the peg and lowered himself down into the hole. Me and Ron followed. There was a rope on the other side of the pit already tied to the top. Ron was looking that way, and when I looked back and Nick was pulling the rope we had just climbed down into the hole. “What are you doing, we have to go out that way?” I asked. He said that we would need the rope later on, and showed me that he could throw the rope back up there and catch it on the peg when we needed to get out. He pulled the rope back down and put it over his shoulder. We all climbed out of the pit to the other side.
The tunnel continued north, going down a little more now than before. There were some tunnels taking off from the main passage on the left. Some of them only went a few feet, others you could not see the end of them. After a few minutes of walking, the tunnel suddenly seemed darker. At first I thought the rock was just darker, but I looked at it more carefully and it was covered with writing. I said “Nick, check this out. There is writing all over the wall.” He turned around and came back to where I was.
“Yeah, isn’t it weird. “
I could not make heads or tails out of the letters. Some of them looked familiar but all of them didn’t look like Roman letters, like they were Cyrillic or Greek or something. The writing covered the walls and ceiling. I wondered aloud if maybe some Greek or Russian miners had dug these tunnels. They brought in people from all over to work the mines. I turned back up the tunnel to see what Ron thought, and he was standing about six feet behind us.
“Ron, can you see this?” He didn’t say anything. He was pointing his flashlight right in my eyes so I couldn’t see him.
I started walking towards him and when I got back to him he said “Let’s go.” He turned and started walking back down the tunnel. Nick by this time had walked up and we both grabbed Ron’s arms. We both badgered him to continue up the tunnel. Nick said we were almost to the end. We finally convinced Ron to keep going, but he stayed behind the two of us.
As we went on, the writing on the wall got even thicker. Nick seemed like he was in a hurry so I could not take a good look at it, but it looked like there were little pictures mixed up in the writing too. I could not really tell what I was seeing, but I thought there were some pictures of skulls, like little Iron Maiden skulls. By this time I thought Nick had drawn on the walls and he was trying to freak us out.
After another minute or so of walking we came to a more open area. It was about 15x15 feet, with an old rickety wood door at the end. Nick set the rope down and stepped aside so me and Ron could file into the room. The walls of the room were bare rock, but I looked up at the ceiling, which was pretty high like 12 feet, and it appeared that there was more writing up there.
Nick walked up to the door and knocked on it two times. I was smirking by this time. Ron was by the entrance pointing his flashlight at Nick. He said “What the hell are you doing?”
Nick said “Just wait, this is really cool.”
Ron grabbed the rope and then turned around, saying “I’m leaving” over his shoulder. I let out a little laugh and turned back to Nick, smiling. Before I could say anything he ran past me and tackled Ron. Both of them hit the floor. I stood there for a while looking at Nick sitting on top of Ron, punching him in the face over and over again. Finally I ran up and grabbed Nick by the shoulders and tried to pull him off Ron. He turned around and punched me right in the nose. I fell back, but Ron was able to throw Nick off and get to his feet. Nick grabbed Ron and pulled him back into the room. Nick was pulling Ron towards the door. I got up and tried to pull Nick’s arms off of Ron. Nick tripped Ron, who fell hard on the floor, and then he turned and punched me again in the nose, knocking me back on my butt. Both Ron and I were a lot bigger than Nick but he was kicking the crap out of both of us.
Ron bolted for the tunnel. Again Nick grabbed him and started pulling him backwards. I got to my feet and grabbed my flashlight off the floor. It was a polished aluminum flashlight that took two D batteries. I held on to the end with the light and smashed the other end into Nick’s head. I did that three times until he fell. Ron ran out of the room, grabbing his light and the rope on his way down the tunnel.
I watched him go and started to stagger after him. After taking a few steps down the tunnel I was hit in the back and Nick knocked me to the floor. My breath was knocked out and I dropped my light. He got up off me and grabbed me by the back of my shirt. He was pulling me back towards the room. I was grabbing at the floor, but it was too smooth to gain any purchase. I grabbed my light as he was pulling me past it, and flipped over with everything I had and knocked him on the head again. He fell backwards. I jumped on top of him and hit him again. The flashlight went out after that second hit. I kept hitting him with the light, and just lost all restraint. I must have hit him five times before I regained my senses and got up and backed away. Then I heard the squeak of rusty hinges as a gust of cool damp air rushed up the tunnel.
I ran. It was pitch black but I sprinted down the tunnel and didn’t touch a single wall. I don’t remember the pit or the T, I just remember running. When I got to the entrance of the tunnel, I kept running and tripped over the fallen gate. I fell hard on to one of the bars with my left leg just below my knee and badly scratched up my hands. I got up and limped as fast as I could up the trail without looking back. I noticed there was blood all over my shirt.
I was afraid Ron had left me, but when I got to the water tank, he was sitting in the car with the motor running. He had has his rifle out and was pointing it at me. I yelled to him and when he saw it was me he waived me over. He kept repeating “Let’s go, hurry!”I hobbled over to the car and opened the door.
“What about Nick?” I asked.
I was loading a banana magazine into my rifle. “Screw Nick, let’s go” said Ron.
“We just can’t leave him out here, I think I killed him.”
“Good, lets go.”
Right then Nick came sprinting over the top of the hill. He had blood running down his forehead and he was running full blast right towards us. I jumped in the car and Ron sped off. For a bit Nick was gaining on us, and I leaned out of the window and pointed my rifle at him. Ron was yelling “Shoot him!” But pretty soon he was way behind us. We stopped at the camp site and threw our sleeping bags and stuff into the car. We kept the engine running and our rifles in our hands while we scanned the road behind us. I left one of my canteens for Nick.
When we got to the causeway, Ron told me I looked like hell. I got a towel and tried to clean all the blood off my face. We just kept yelling “What the hell” at each other.
The car died again after we hit I-80, a few miles short of Black Rock. We pulled off to the shoulder. Ron got out of the car to look at the road behind us. He left his rifle in the passenger side of the car. I stayed in the car because my shirt was so bloody. I kept my loaded rifle by my side. I guess if we had seen Nick we would have shot him right there on the interstate. After about an hour the car started and we drove back to Salt Lake.
Later that night I called Nick’s apartment. His roommate answered. I asked if Nick was there and he said sure. I could hear him call “Nick, phone.” After a minute I could hear the phone being picked up, and someone breathing on the line. He didn’t say anything. I hung up.
I hadn’t heard from either of those guys in years, but Ron eventually found my sister through Facebook and he sent me an email. He has been doing well and is now a Mormon Bishop. That got me thinking about Nick. I searched the internet and eventually found an obituary, dated about 12 years after the camping trip. The obituary does not say how he died. I was kind of hoping to ask him what in the hell was going on that day.
Wow Glockguy, that is freakin' creepy! :eek2: I'd be wanting to head back to that cave to see what the hell was in that room.
Where did you find that story by the way?
I'm usually not much of a reader but I was hooked.
^^^WTF? Where did you read this story? Seems like more of an insane individual, not an odd phenomenon. There are a lot of insane individuals here in Utah, so not very odd for this place. I mean from the Hi-Fi killers to the dude busted having sex with birds at the Tracy Aviary, there are some whack jobs here in Utah for sure. But where is the paranormal part of this story? Is it possession? Demonic sacrifice? I am kind of confused.
Pretty interesting huh? Not sure how much I believe, but it is very entertaining. It is from a thread that has been going for over 3 years on AR15.com. http://www.ar15.com/forums/topic.html?b=1&f=5&t=762310
Here is another Utah one, this time in Bell's canyon:
Okay, here's my story. I guess It's been long enough that I can type it out without freaking out.The guys has definitely been in the canyon and explains it well.
This happened a while ago in the fall, so about a two years ago. I love hiking in the fall, it reminds me a lot of hunting with my dad. The tree colors, the cool air, the smells... It's all so much better than any other time of the year. Anyway, I always go hiking alone. I like the time to think, I like to explore whatever catches my eye, and I like to work to my own pace without having to cater to anyone else's timeline or stamina. I always take a pack with plenty of water, a little survival kit, flashlight, tp––the normal outdoor stuff. I also carry a large fixed blade knife on the shoulder strap and a Smith and & Wesson M&P9 on my hip. Yes, it gets me strange looks on the trails sometimes, but those hippies can kiss my ass if they think I'm going to wander around in the mountains unarmed.
So it's around the beginning of October and I'm in Salt Lake City. I have a Friday off from work and I decide to re-do a hike I'd done previously in the spring: Bells Canyon near Sandy, Utah. The trail starts down near the entrance to Little Cottonwood canyon but the trail works up a steep, narrow draw nearly to the top of the mountain peek without ever going over into Little Cottonwood itself. Bells canyon is built like a giant chute cut out of brilliant white granite. There's a reservoir near the bottom where most weekend warriors will climb the half mile to have a picnic and then go home. There's also a reservoir at the top, which is the final goal for the serious hiker. Behind the lower reservoir the canyon begins to climb rather sharply with gorgeous, huge granite formations rising to either side. Along the trail up there are a couple waterfalls which bring the more tenacious crowds, but past that you rarely see anybody on the trail, even on the busy weekends. About three and a half miles (and 3000ft) up the canyon it levels out into a bowl with a beautiful little meadow and some aspen groves. This is as far as I'd made it the first time that spring before turning back because I was pooped and out of time. The trail continues up the south side of the bowl for an incredibly steep two-mile, 1500ft gain until you reach the upper reservoir.
I hit the trailhead around around 9:30am and began the hike up. The colors were quite breath-taking. The scurb oak was showing various shades of red and orange and the aspen trees were a brilliant shade of yellow. It was a clear day and the sun lit up the leaves all around the canyon. I met a few people on their way down, but never saw anyone ahead or behind me on their way up. I finally reached the bowl area around noon. By that time I was snagging the fine spider-web lines across the trail so I knew where was nobody ahead of me on the trail. I was alone on the mountain and it felt awesome.
After wandering around the bowl area and taking some photos, I started on the switchback trail which lead up the bowl's southern side. The switchback eventually led out onto a ridge of smooth granite which fell away to the right into a deeper crease in the draw I was following up. On the opposite side there were areas of rockslide with chunks of the granite ranging from couch size down to basketball. There were sparse areas of aspen and pine throughout the whole area, with intermittent patches of scrub oak. Following the granite ridge up was a stone cold bitch of a hike, the thing kept going up and up. It was like god's own stairmaster. Luckily the scenery helped out and it was quite pleasant to sit on a rock and gaze back down the curving canyon.
Eventually the trail peaked over the lip of the bowl and I reached the reservoir. It's quite neat, there's a dam built out of hand-carved chunks of granite on the one end, with the body of water filling the area behind it. Being fall time the reservoir was quite low and there was hardly any water. Unfortunately during the spring when the reservoir would be full the whole area is covered in snow and would make an awkward hike. By the spillway there was an area of old mortar with names and dates which were carved when the dam was built. The names were dated at Sept 1938. So those poor shmucks hiked up the mountain about 70 years ago with all their tools and when they got there they cut, carved, hauled, and placed enough large blocks of stone to build the dam. Wow, my hat's off to them. I explored around a bit more and found another tiny pond off to the side which was still full. It was green with algae, but pretty cool nonetheless. By that time it was getting midway through the afternoon and I only had about four hours of light left in the day, so I decided it was time to go. My legs were pretty tired so I knew it was going to suck on the way down, but at least I wasn't going up anymore.
I found a different trail than the one I came up on leading back down from the dam. Although I was eager to get back down I decided to follow it to see if it was better than the one I came up on. As it moved over the lip of the bowl down into steeper area I could see that this one lead across the bottom of the gorge down along several areas of huge granite boulders piled up at the base of the ridges. Not quite as easy, but still pretty neat. I was working across a flow of particularly large boulders when I stopped for a drink and a snack. The boulders where huge, about the size of a kitchen or dumptruck. I had to be careful working my way across them, some parts required a scramble or small jump, with most of it requiring hands and feet. The chucks of rock were large and oddly shaped enough that they left deep black crevices and spaces underneath them. The last thing I wanted to do was slip because anyway you fell would mean something would get broken.
The boulder I was on was pretty big and jutted out above the others. I took my pack off and sat down, taking a pull from a water bottle and started in on some sort of energy bar. The mountain ridge to the south was pretty high and steep so it block the afternoon sun where I was sitting. There was still plenty of light but the shadows were growing long and the crevasses all around me under the boulders were now pretty much black. As I'm munching away I hear some sort of rustling sound down from what seems like the boulder below the one I'm sitting on. It's quiet for a few more minutes and then I hear it again. I'm almost done with the energy bar, and I'm thinking 'squirrel,' so I toss the last piece of of the energy bar down onto the boulder below mine. I watch it for a minute while I take a drink of water, but the sound doesn't come back and the bit of energy bar just sits there. Oh well. I shove everything back into the pack and zip it up. I'm just about to swing it around on my back when I glance down and my heart almost stops. A pale white arm, a human arm, thin and grimy reaches up out of the crevice and snatches the chunk of energy bar and disappears back into the blackness.
I think I shouted something like "WHAT THE F*CK!!!" or "F*CK ME!!!" at the top of my lungs, and my M&P9 suddenly appeared in my hands. I threw the pack on and adrenaline is like spewing out of my eyeballs. I do remember hearing a weird 'chuffing' or breathing sound a coming up underneath me couple times as I did a mad scramble to get off those damn rocks. In my mind's eye I kept seeing a bony white hand reaching up and snagging my arm or leg or something. I knew if I slipped or missed a jump I'd fall into one of those cracks and then that thing whatever it was would have me. When I hit the trail on the other side of the boulder flow I looked back once. For the space of two heartbeats I saw nothing. And then what had looked like a smaller boulder in the middle of the rock flow moved and dropped out of sight behind a larger rock. After that, I was gone. Despite being tired before I practically flew down the canyon. It's probably good I didn't meet anyone on the way down because my gun was in my hand the whole time and I was very, very jumpy.
Haven't been up that trail since, and there's no way in hell I'll ever go back up there. I have no idea what that thing was. To this day I can't walk across boulder patches like that when I'm hiking or hunting. I keep seeing that white hand reaching up out of the blackness...
Hmm, I've been to Upper Bells, even camped there overnight solo. Never had anything like this happen. No bad omens or anything, well except the fishing was a bit tough. I think solitude and altitude can play tricks on the mind. Not sure if I am buying this story. Just sayin....................
My grandparents have a lot of scary/weird stories that have happened here in Utah, including one that happened primarily to my dad.
At the time of this story, they lived in Bridgeland, UT (in between Duchesne, UT and Myton, UT), have moved a few times, but ultimately ended up moving back to the same place (which is where my grandparents still reside).
Anyways out in the Uintah Basin if you've ever been out there, you'll notice there is a bench. A lot of people live up on the bench, and down in the valley below the bench. There are a bunch of canyons all the way along the bench that go down into the valley.
My grandparents home is near the mouth of one of those canyon's, and at the time may have been only one of two homes that was around that area, right now there is about three or four.
Anyways, those canyons were very thick, and my dad told me how cougars, bobcats, and other wild things lived in the canyon. However, it was extremely thick as well, sort of like a jungle. On the bench above are fields, and they're constantly watered which has allowed that entire canyon to grow thick trees, vines, and all sorts of vegetation, with ponds, etc.
So in my grandparents home, it is very widespread, and my dad's bedroom was on one end of the house with a window facing the canyon, while all the other bedrooms were on the other side of the house.
So on one particular night, my dad was awoken by some terrible screeching far off up the canyon. The sound was getting closer, and closer. He could feel that something bad was coming, but as a normal person, or even a being a little kid, what do you do? Hide underneath your covers and not move an inch! That's exactly what he did. He felt that something bad was coming, and the screeching was getting closer and closer. He said how he pulled the covers over his head, and the screeching noise came up to his window. He recalls feeling the presence right outside of his window. His window is about 4 feet up, and he was thinking, this thing is looking in my room. Whatever it was, start scratching the side of the house (which had a wooden covering).
The dog was inside of the house, and it was going rampant. My grandma ran down to the other side of the house, calling my dad's name asking if he was okay, and whatever it was took off and they could hear it thrashing through their pond.
My grandpa ended up letting the dog out, and they heard the dog take off barking at whatever it was out towards their pond. The screeching continued, and whatever it was took off.
The next morning, they looked for the dog everywhere. Apparently they found the dog hiding underneath an old vehicle. For years you could see these four or so very long claw marks down underneath the window. I am wishing I would have taken a picture in time to have had it on camera, I do have one photo but you can really only make out one scratch nearly 40 years later. One thing for sure, it wasn't a cougar. From how my grandparents and dad talked about it, the screeching was a noise they've never heard.
My dad doesn't like to talk about it. Actually, whenever the topic has been brought up, he always jokes around saying it's too spooky to talk about. I mean, you could understand why, you wouldn't really want to bring back up horrifying memories of something that happened to you as a kid.
I grew up on the bench up above my grandparents, and that story always stuck with me. We'd often walk from my house down through the fields, and down that same canyon (40+ years later). It's still very thick, but of course there are no longer cougars. I did see a bobcat when I was younger. I always got bad feelings, as well as one of my cousins when we'd hike through there together or alone.
------
I have a story of my own that involve those canyons as well. I mentioned how I always got bad feelings along with my cousin when I'd go near there. Possibly an effect from always thinking about that story of the creature that came screeching down the canyon.
One night my dad told me to take the BB-Gun and my dog for a walk. Naturally I headed down towards the canyon, but decided to follow the old canal bank up above, which continually followed the bench around from canyon to the next canyon.
There are many deer around there as well, so wildlife is expected to be all over out there.
On that particular night, I was walking with my dog doing fine, made it past the first canyon without getting any weird feelings. I was good to go, so my dog and I kept chugging along the canal bank. We were nearing the next canyon, and I started to get a little spooked. It was starting to get dark, and I though that perhaps I'd reach the second canyon and head up to the very top.
However, I walked, stopped for a minute, walked, and thought I had heard something. I couldn't see down below me in the canyon because of the thickness of the trees and vegetation.
When suddenly something went crashing right below me. It definitely was not a deer. You know, they'll make the "thump, thump, thump" noise as they hop away. Pretty sure it wasn't a cow (as I was also near fields that had cows in them). No chance of an Elk being down that low, so I just froze. Normally my dog would go chasing after whatever it was, but this time it was a different story.
My dog took off up the hill up above, running away. He stopped halfway up, and was whimpering. I tried to call him back down, but he wouldn't budge. I could see him shivering up above, while whining, and he would not budge. I could tell he wanted to get out of there.
So here I was half way from the top and the bottom of this canyon, and after that few seconds of crashing down below I didn't hear another noise, which is odd, because the entire bottom is nothing but thick timber. So whatever it was, had stopped.
I slowly step by step climbed the hill to go straight up, rather than following the canyon up. I reached my dog, and he was so excited to get out of there, he just kept running way ahead. I couldn't get get him to come back. Usually he'd walk right around, or right with me always. But even a half a mile away from the canyon, he was still a full 50 yards ahead of me.
I'm not sure what it was, but it scared my dog bad enough, that my dog wasn't going to hesitate leaving... but thank goodness he didn't just ditch me. He has never done that to me in my life, even when there is something questionable that he may have been spooked over, he would run back to me, or my brothers, or dad. But certainly never away from both me, and whatever else was out there.
Now having been another 12+ years since that happened, whenever I visit out that way, I don't get those bad feelings as much. Whatever has lived in those canyons, if anything bad, most likely has moved on, or died. :)
I have some more stories, but I thought that would be enough reading for now. :)
Interesting, thanks for sharing rmoat.
Yay for spooky stories. Haha. Those are good everyone. :)
Keep them coming.
If you are in Cedar City you can find the "bloomers" building. That one just had some ghost hunters there recently. If you are in Brigham City there are the "old Indian Schools" that were used to teach Native Americans during World War II. Those are mostly all abandoned and boarded off but if you are there at the right times you can see some pretty interesting stuff. I haven't found it but there is a rumor that there are some underground tunnels that were used to travel from the schools to other parts of town. I have heard that cultists and the like were at one time using these tunnels to contact the underworld. But, there are many stories about people seeing ghosts in the Indian Schools.
Hey rmoat, you should check out this site: http://www.bfro.net/
This is the scientific research being done on the encounters with bipedal creatures living in the wilderness. From what you described sounds like a classic Sasquatch encounter, both the screeching incident with the scratches on the wood on your house, and the way your dog acted when you went on the walk in the canyon. They have recorded audio and investigated encounters on the BRFO site. Maybe you heard the same thing. Let us know. Very interesting stories, and the area you lived or still live has a history of encounters.
That's because the scouts hold (or used to hold) their jamborees there. All kinds of weird stuff happens at scout jamborees. Or at least it did when I was a scout.Quote:
I've heard weird things happen in Skull Valley.
Interesting! Thanks for posting that link. I'll definitely have to check it out. I'm sure my dad also had a "distant" encounter when he was a little older as well. Out in the Uintah Basin there are trails all over out there for riding motorcycles, four wheelers, etc.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dr. Nebz
My dad tells of a story of how he was riding his tote gote in the hills when he was younger, and this bear was running on two. He went home and told his dad about seeing a bear down in the country. My grandpa told my dad that bears don't run on two legs.
Very interesting. Thanks, I'll check that out.