Jake

If you ever find a rock stacked neatly on your sleeping bag in the middle of the woods, just one, perfectly centered, with tiny, deliberate claw marks carved along its base, don't pick it up. Don't touch it. Don't kick it. Just leave your pack, your tent, your friends, and go. I didn't. I picked it up. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm Jake.

If you ever find a rock stacked neatly on your sleeping bag in the middle of the woods, just one, perfectly centered, with tiny, deliberate claw marks carved along its base, don't pick it up. Don't touch it. Don't kick it. Just leave your pack, your tent, your friends, and go. I didn't. I picked it up. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm Jake.

And if you know me from my channel, The Unexplained Northwest, Then yeah, this was supposed to be my big breakout series. Ape Canyon, the truth, 100 years later. We were supposed to hike in, find the spot where the old miners said they were attacked in 1924, film some eerie b-roll, throw in a few creepy ambient noises, and rack up a couple hundred thousand views.

And if you know me from my channel, The Unexplained Northwest, Then yeah, this was supposed to be my big breakout series. Ape Canyon, the truth, 100 years later. We were supposed to hike in, find the spot where the old miners said they were attacked in 1924, film some eerie b-roll, throw in a few creepy ambient noises, and rack up a couple hundred thousand views.

But what happened out there wasn't content. It was a trap. One we walked into willingly. We left the Marble Mountain Snow Park at 7.42 a.m., August 18th. Clear skies. Spirits were high. Molly, my girlfriend, had that look she always gets before a backpacking trip. Calm, laser-focused, ready for anything. Aaron had his drone kit and thermal camera strapped to his back.

But what happened out there wasn't content. It was a trap. One we walked into willingly. We left the Marble Mountain Snow Park at 7.42 a.m., August 18th. Clear skies. Spirits were high. Molly, my girlfriend, had that look she always gets before a backpacking trip. Calm, laser-focused, ready for anything. Aaron had his drone kit and thermal camera strapped to his back.

Jess, his little sister, was dragging behind with an energy drink and a bag of trail mix she'd mostly spilled in the car. And David, well, David was along because we needed a fifth and he had a forerunner. The trail started normal, dusty switchbacks, old Douglas firs crowding in, patches of ash where the forest hadn't fully recovered from the last fire.

Jess, his little sister, was dragging behind with an energy drink and a bag of trail mix she'd mostly spilled in the car. And David, well, David was along because we needed a fifth and he had a forerunner. The trail started normal, dusty switchbacks, old Douglas firs crowding in, patches of ash where the forest hadn't fully recovered from the last fire.

But even an hour in, I felt it, that off feeling, not fear, not yet, just too quiet, no birdsong, no wind, just the crunch of our boots and the occasional can't-quite-place-it echo that followed a little too long after we spoke. Jess joked that the forest felt judgy. David rolled his eyes. It's just a hike, guys. Bigfoot isn't real.

But even an hour in, I felt it, that off feeling, not fear, not yet, just too quiet, no birdsong, no wind, just the crunch of our boots and the occasional can't-quite-place-it echo that followed a little too long after we spoke. Jess joked that the forest felt judgy. David rolled his eyes. It's just a hike, guys. Bigfoot isn't real.

And even if it was, the dude would be dead of Lyme disease by now. We laughed. I didn't tell them that the first time I came out here a year ago to scout, I found nails, rusty, square-cut ones, buried in the moss near an overgrown ridge. And next to them, a crossbeam, split in half, burnt on one side like lightning had struck it. I marked the location on my GPS and planned our return.

And even if it was, the dude would be dead of Lyme disease by now. We laughed. I didn't tell them that the first time I came out here a year ago to scout, I found nails, rusty, square-cut ones, buried in the moss near an overgrown ridge. And next to them, a crossbeam, split in half, burnt on one side like lightning had struck it. I marked the location on my GPS and planned our return.

When we reached the ridge that afternoon, everything felt wrong, not dangerous, just too still, like the woods had decided to watch. "'This the spot?' Molly asked, brushing sweat off her neck. "'Yep,' I said, trying to sound casual. "'This is where Fred Beck and his crew built the cabin, or what's left of it.' We found the nails again, the charred beam.

When we reached the ridge that afternoon, everything felt wrong, not dangerous, just too still, like the woods had decided to watch. "'This the spot?' Molly asked, brushing sweat off her neck. "'Yep,' I said, trying to sound casual. "'This is where Fred Beck and his crew built the cabin, or what's left of it.' We found the nails again, the charred beam.

Aaron scanned with the thermal but didn't catch anything unusual. Still, we all agreed the air felt thicker here, like walking into a room where someone had just been yelling. We set up camp on the flattest ground we could find. Trees surrounded us on all sides. Pine needles blanketed everything. Our fire pit crackled to life as the sun dipped low. Dinner was freeze-dried chili and cheap whiskey.

Aaron scanned with the thermal but didn't catch anything unusual. Still, we all agreed the air felt thicker here, like walking into a room where someone had just been yelling. We set up camp on the flattest ground we could find. Trees surrounded us on all sides. Pine needles blanketed everything. Our fire pit crackled to life as the sun dipped low. Dinner was freeze-dried chili and cheap whiskey.

The mood was light at first. Aaron cracked jokes. Jess pulled out tarot cards. David wandered off for a smoke saying we were all nuts. But around 9.30 p.m. things shifted. The wind died. Not slowly. Not gradually. Just stopped. No breeze. No rustling leaves. Even the smoke from our fire started rising straight up like a pillar.

The mood was light at first. Aaron cracked jokes. Jess pulled out tarot cards. David wandered off for a smoke saying we were all nuts. But around 9.30 p.m. things shifted. The wind died. Not slowly. Not gradually. Just stopped. No breeze. No rustling leaves. Even the smoke from our fire started rising straight up like a pillar.

then came the tapping three knocks faint like someone tapping a rock against a tree trunk we all froze woodpecker david said too quickly jess shook her head not that rhythm that was deliberate we sat in silence listening ten minutes passed nothing then three more taps closer I turned on the parabolic mic and scanned the tree line. Nothing obvious, but there was a sound under the white noise.

then came the tapping three knocks faint like someone tapping a rock against a tree trunk we all froze woodpecker david said too quickly jess shook her head not that rhythm that was deliberate we sat in silence listening ten minutes passed nothing then three more taps closer I turned on the parabolic mic and scanned the tree line. Nothing obvious, but there was a sound under the white noise.