Derek

But we knew differently. There was no fire. There was no official investigation. Dunhollow quietly disappeared from maps, forgotten. Yet, sometimes late at night, I swear I still hear two sharp whistles from somewhere far away, just beyond my window, an invitation I will never answer. My name is Trevor Martinez.

But we knew differently. There was no fire. There was no official investigation. Dunhollow quietly disappeared from maps, forgotten. Yet, sometimes late at night, I swear I still hear two sharp whistles from somewhere far away, just beyond my window, an invitation I will never answer. My name is Trevor Martinez.

I've always preferred the solitude of hiking alone, capturing everything on my GoPro for my modest audience online. There's a certain clarity in isolation, especially in places like Los Padres National Forest, where the terrain is raw and unforgiving. This trip in particular was supposed to be straightforward. A two-night loop along the Devil's Backbone Trail, starting from the Neera campground.

I've always preferred the solitude of hiking alone, capturing everything on my GoPro for my modest audience online. There's a certain clarity in isolation, especially in places like Los Padres National Forest, where the terrain is raw and unforgiving. This trip in particular was supposed to be straightforward. A two-night loop along the Devil's Backbone Trail, starting from the Neera campground.

I'd done my research, steep ridgelines, thorny brush, and a handful of wildlife warnings. Nothing I hadn't handled before. It was late spring, and the California heat hadn't fully taken hold yet.

I'd done my research, steep ridgelines, thorny brush, and a handful of wildlife warnings. Nothing I hadn't handled before. It was late spring, and the California heat hadn't fully taken hold yet.

i hit the trail at dawn camera rolling birds sang intermittently as i navigated through dry chaparral taking steady strides across the rocky path by mid-morning the rhythmic crunch of my boots was the only thing accompanying me around midday the path narrowed and the chaparral became denser whipping at my sleeves it was then on an exposed ridge i first saw it just off the trail on a wide boulder

i hit the trail at dawn camera rolling birds sang intermittently as i navigated through dry chaparral taking steady strides across the rocky path by mid-morning the rhythmic crunch of my boots was the only thing accompanying me around midday the path narrowed and the chaparral became denser whipping at my sleeves it was then on an exposed ridge i first saw it just off the trail on a wide boulder

stood a strange stone cairn. At first glance, it looked like a normal stack of rocks, the kind hikers leave behind to mark obscure routes. But something felt off. Approaching cautiously, I realized it wasn't a simple stack. It spiraled inward, tight and deliberate, with no obvious point or message. Probably just someone's weird art project, I muttered to myself, half laughing.

stood a strange stone cairn. At first glance, it looked like a normal stack of rocks, the kind hikers leave behind to mark obscure routes. But something felt off. Approaching cautiously, I realized it wasn't a simple stack. It spiraled inward, tight and deliberate, with no obvious point or message. Probably just someone's weird art project, I muttered to myself, half laughing.

But the silence around me made my voice echo strangely, and I quickly pressed on. Hours passed, and as daylight stretched thin, I found myself noticing more spiraling cairns. Each one was smaller and more intricate than the last. They were leading away from the main trail, deeper into the rugged hills and canyons. Curiosity tugged at me.

But the silence around me made my voice echo strangely, and I quickly pressed on. Hours passed, and as daylight stretched thin, I found myself noticing more spiraling cairns. Each one was smaller and more intricate than the last. They were leading away from the main trail, deeper into the rugged hills and canyons. Curiosity tugged at me.

Maybe it was some forgotten historical trail, possibly a route left by locals? I checked my GPS, which flickered weakly under the dense canopy, the signal fading in and out unpredictably. Still, my curiosity got the better of me, and with the reassurance of being well equipped, I turned off the main path, following these peculiar markers into increasingly rough terrain.

Maybe it was some forgotten historical trail, possibly a route left by locals? I checked my GPS, which flickered weakly under the dense canopy, the signal fading in and out unpredictably. Still, my curiosity got the better of me, and with the reassurance of being well equipped, I turned off the main path, following these peculiar markers into increasingly rough terrain.

The landscape changed subtly, becoming steep and heavily wooded. The ground softened, carpeted with fallen needles and dense underbrush that snagged my gear. The spirals led further downhill into a narrow canyon unmarked on my maps. At the canyon bottom, I found a trickle of water barely big enough to fill my canteen.

The landscape changed subtly, becoming steep and heavily wooded. The ground softened, carpeted with fallen needles and dense underbrush that snagged my gear. The spirals led further downhill into a narrow canyon unmarked on my maps. At the canyon bottom, I found a trickle of water barely big enough to fill my canteen.

Perfect place to camp, I figured, setting up my small tent under the shade of dense oak and sycamore trees. That night, sleep was restless. Every creak of branches overhead, every rustle in the brush, set my nerves on edge. Twice I sat up abruptly, convinced I heard footsteps circling my camp.

Perfect place to camp, I figured, setting up my small tent under the shade of dense oak and sycamore trees. That night, sleep was restless. Every creak of branches overhead, every rustle in the brush, set my nerves on edge. Twice I sat up abruptly, convinced I heard footsteps circling my camp.

But when I shined my flashlight into the surrounding darkness, nothing but shadows and branches stared back. Eventually, I drifted into uneasy sleep. Just before dawn, I woke again, sharply, my pulse racing. I couldn't pinpoint why until I realized what was bothering me. The forest was completely silent. Not even the distant hoot of an owl or hum of insects, nothing.

But when I shined my flashlight into the surrounding darkness, nothing but shadows and branches stared back. Eventually, I drifted into uneasy sleep. Just before dawn, I woke again, sharply, my pulse racing. I couldn't pinpoint why until I realized what was bothering me. The forest was completely silent. Not even the distant hoot of an owl or hum of insects, nothing.