Derek

No mention of Cabin 27 appeared anywhere, not even as a ruin, not as a historical site, nothing. I shook my head and radioed the nearest ranger station, a crackling static voice responding after a few tries. Hey, can someone confirm something for me? I asked, trying to sound casual. Is there supposed to be a Cabin 27 somewhere in Great Gulf? Silence lingered on the line a bit too long.

No mention of Cabin 27 appeared anywhere, not even as a ruin, not as a historical site, nothing. I shook my head and radioed the nearest ranger station, a crackling static voice responding after a few tries. Hey, can someone confirm something for me? I asked, trying to sound casual. Is there supposed to be a Cabin 27 somewhere in Great Gulf? Silence lingered on the line a bit too long.

When the voice returned it was cautious, almost hesitant. Negative. No Cabin 27 listed. Probably an old logging camp or something. Best to ignore it. I thanked the ranger and hung up the radio, but his response left a strange unease gnawing at my gut.

When the voice returned it was cautious, almost hesitant. Negative. No Cabin 27 listed. Probably an old logging camp or something. Best to ignore it. I thanked the ranger and hung up the radio, but his response left a strange unease gnawing at my gut.

if it was an error why had it persisted across so many log entries over so many years i cooked a simple meal of beans and toast on the propane stove as darkness descended outside trees rustled in the breeze branches occasionally scraping against the roof I tried to put the odd log entries from my mind, chalking it up to bureaucratic oversight and boredom from previous rangers.

if it was an error why had it persisted across so many log entries over so many years i cooked a simple meal of beans and toast on the propane stove as darkness descended outside trees rustled in the breeze branches occasionally scraping against the roof I tried to put the odd log entries from my mind, chalking it up to bureaucratic oversight and boredom from previous rangers.

After dinner, I readied myself for sleep, stretching out on the narrow cot, exhaustion heavy in my limbs. Sleep came uneasily, dreams scattered with visions of shadowy cabins buried deep in twisted forest trails. I woke suddenly around midnight, unsure what had startled me. Listening closely, heart quickening, I heard nothing at first but the faint wind and distant trickle of a stream.

After dinner, I readied myself for sleep, stretching out on the narrow cot, exhaustion heavy in my limbs. Sleep came uneasily, dreams scattered with visions of shadowy cabins buried deep in twisted forest trails. I woke suddenly around midnight, unsure what had startled me. Listening closely, heart quickening, I heard nothing at first but the faint wind and distant trickle of a stream.

Then came three distinct knocks on the front door, slow deliberate taps, evenly spaced. My chest tightened, muscles stiffening. i rose from the cot quietly grabbing the flashlight from the desk and inching toward the door for a long moment i stood there breath shallow waiting silence gathering courage i swung the door open flashlight beam slicing through the inky blackness

Then came three distinct knocks on the front door, slow deliberate taps, evenly spaced. My chest tightened, muscles stiffening. i rose from the cot quietly grabbing the flashlight from the desk and inching toward the door for a long moment i stood there breath shallow waiting silence gathering courage i swung the door open flashlight beam slicing through the inky blackness

Nothing greeted me except darkness and the trees. But as I lowered my beam to the ground, a chill spread across my shoulders. There, clear as day, stamped into the soft, damp earth at the edge of the porch, was a single wet bootprint. And it wasn't mine. Morning came slow, breaking gray and heavy over the great gulf wilderness.

Nothing greeted me except darkness and the trees. But as I lowered my beam to the ground, a chill spread across my shoulders. There, clear as day, stamped into the soft, damp earth at the edge of the porch, was a single wet bootprint. And it wasn't mine. Morning came slow, breaking gray and heavy over the great gulf wilderness.

I hadn't slept since the knocking, haunted by the image of that wet bootprint just outside my door. I ate breakfast mechanically, stale bread and cold coffee, my thoughts cycling back relentlessly to the strange logbook entries and that disembodied tapping. A restless energy crawled through my limbs. I needed answers, something to settle my mind.

I hadn't slept since the knocking, haunted by the image of that wet bootprint just outside my door. I ate breakfast mechanically, stale bread and cold coffee, my thoughts cycling back relentlessly to the strange logbook entries and that disembodied tapping. A restless energy crawled through my limbs. I needed answers, something to settle my mind.

By mid-morning, maps and notes spread across the cabin desk. I pieced together clues from the cryptic log entries.

By mid-morning, maps and notes spread across the cabin desk. I pieced together clues from the cryptic log entries.

above the river split ridge near blighted hemlocks i cross-referenced these hints obsessively with my official topographic charts finally an isolated unmapped area near chandler brook trail revealed itself a dense patch of wilderness closed off years ago after a massive rock slide it wasn't far a short drive by atv then i'd have to bushwhack the rest of the way on foot

above the river split ridge near blighted hemlocks i cross-referenced these hints obsessively with my official topographic charts finally an isolated unmapped area near chandler brook trail revealed itself a dense patch of wilderness closed off years ago after a massive rock slide it wasn't far a short drive by atv then i'd have to bushwhack the rest of the way on foot

Before I left, I radioed again to the ranger station, offering vague details of my route, deliberately omitting my true destination. Something about yesterday's hesitation unsettled me, and the less they knew about my intentions, the better. Twenty minutes later, I parked the ATV and moved into dense underbrush, compass and map in hand.

Before I left, I radioed again to the ranger station, offering vague details of my route, deliberately omitting my true destination. Something about yesterday's hesitation unsettled me, and the less they knew about my intentions, the better. Twenty minutes later, I parked the ATV and moved into dense underbrush, compass and map in hand.