One time, Raccoons got into my tent, popped open my tent-mates snack box, and proceeded to fight each other viciously NOT ONLY outside AND inside the tent, but ON TOP OF ME as well.

It is hands down the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me. Raccoons aren’t inherently scary, but when there’s ~8 of them, they’re angry, and you can feel them viciously fighting directly on top of you, it’s enough to scar you for life.

I stayed stiff as a board in my sleeping bag for over an hour, just waiting for it to end. I remember having intense back and neck pain the morning after because I kept my body so rigid for so long.

I fucking hated that tent mate. He was and always will be a psycho. Pretty sure the fuck did it on purpose, because he slept in a different tent that night.

Despite hearing tales about will-o’-the-wisps all my life, I still followed a mysterious light deeper and deeper into the woods, and it was only the sound of a foghorn blowing almost directly beneath my feet that roused me and prevented me from tumbling off a cliff into the Ohio River. I was less than two feet from the edge, and I didn’t even see it.

Summer of ‘07, as had become our standing tradition, my brother, cousin and I would make a two-day canoe trip on the Upper Mississippi. Slightly above Winona (and indeed scattered about the river) are large piles of dredging sand scoured from the channel bottom to make room for barges. It was on one of these piles where we would always make camp.

Now, night on the river has a particular peculiarity, as the small waves tinkle like black diamonds and the stars make themselves known like in the days of pre-history. But on a dredging mount, which can often tower high above the dense treeline, the whole of the miles-wide river system span in a deep cut between the bluffs. The only light is from the moon and stars, and Winona in the far distance.

But every now and then, thundering and rumbling like an aqueous workhorse, slowly the barges approach, day and night. So big, in fact, that they themselves can be hundreds of feet of shunted rafts. Any craft foolish enough to nightcruise without lights would surely perish beneath their unyielding hulls.

Us three kids knew this must be the case, since each barge has lit with it an enormous spotlight, as big as a man, and brighter than a thousand campfires. Sweep, sweep, sweeping the dark water of the mysterious river, it would rush over, stop, then rush again to the next place. A lingering eye so uncanny, evoking the image of demons and creatures of the dark, akin to our treasured bushwhacked D&D games.

Hiding ‘hind a dune, pebbles digging our palms, we watched the barges lumber, all the while their searching eyes alert for prey. The only thing louder than the tug’s uncompromising engines were the unified chirps of a million thriving insects and nocturnal creatures. A new barge emerged around a bend, preceded by that glaring lamp, and we silently watched it make it’s inquisitive approach…

The light made a different turn. We all felt it; boats, water and flotsam were not all this barge hungered for. No, the spot of luminosity sped up the side of the dune, and faster than we could react, engulfed us three in a hail of blinding flare.

We hit the deck, but it was too late. Our eyes seared and we panted, backs cold on the sand, darkness returning with only us brave enough to watch the stars.

We waited; listened as the muffled barge meandered past, wandering it’s way to the next lock in search of more victims.

We had been spared of fate that day, but none of us ever forgot the wisps of wind, the churn of water, and the seeking, craving light of that barge. And it won’t soon forget our faces either…

Few spooky, not terrifying ,things have happened over the years.

In younger days, a large group of us went camping in a wooded area on the outskirts of rich people land.

Long story short as things fizzled out, 2 of us as we tended the fire, came to the realisation that there had been an extra person there the whole night, always standing just far enough away you couldn’t see their face, at various edges of the clearing we were in where the vegetation got thick.

Next morning we started asking folk about it and everyone realised when they were talking that the person they thought was standing near them at a certain time had actually been elsewhere.

For a while afterwards we came up with all sorts of stupid teenager explanations of spooky origin but as we grew up we just kinda decided it was a local weirdo

As a kid we went camping near a reservoir and it rained real hard through a couple of nights. One of those nights there was some serious lightning. The loudest lightning crack I ever heard scared the shit out of me and woke everyone in the tent up, but we all stayed quiet. I was terrified. It had to of hit the ground relatively close. I thought it was going to hit again and get us. Thankfully it calmed down after that strike and sometime later I fell back to sleep.

I once camped on a semi secluded beach with a couple of friends. That night we were on the epicenter of an earthquake and also we saw a big red scar looking thing on the sky.

One of my friends acted as sentinel and did not closed his eyes the whole night, he was expecting the sea to recede and come back as a tsunami, gladly nothing happened.

Later, in 2010’s earthquake the sea got out in that very same beach, it wasn’t a full tsunami but videos showed how scary the sea can be.

Probably the foxes or coyotes screaming in the middle of the night, sounding like someone being murdered in the woods. That or the time we woke up to snuffling outside the tent flap and found bear scat in the campsite the next morning.

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Not to me specifically, but a friend got his leg bitten by a spider while camping and almost died. Before finally deciding to go to the hospital, he had a terrible fever, a blinding migrane and his pee changed in color. His leg was also this close 🤏🏻 to necrosis, so yeah. Doctors said he only survived because of his weight.

This is more scary than creepy, but I got stuck in a tropical depression on an island. Thunder everywhere, pouring rain. No shelter other than a tarp. Only way to get off the island is a canoe.

I have two stories from the same camping trip. Yay.

Right before my first year of university, there was this orientational camping trip that they invited all of the first years on. Only about 10 or so actually signed up, and we went upstate to visit one of the reservoirs and the campsites there. It was quite a fun trip, actually. We went kayaking and visited an old airplane hangar, among other cool things. I’d definitely go again if I had the chance.

Anyway, on the first night of our trip, we ended up having to camp at a different site than we had originally planned. This site had some issues with bears (allegedly) so we were given the usual “how not to become bear food workshop before setting up our sleeping spot for the night. I was 17 and had never gone camping before. I didn’t know there would potentially be fucking bears just casually strolling about, so I was just a little terrified.

I was pretty socially awkward at that stage of my life so when I was given the choice to share a tent with a couple of other girls or have my own single tent, I went with my own. Right before it was time to tuck in, I noticed a guy who had set up in the tent next to me sneak a bag of chips from the van into his pocket. I didn’t really think anything of it until after night fell and we were all tucked in, and I heard the telltale rustling of the bag crinkling and Cheeto dusted lip smacking. This dude was a seriously loud eater.

Naturally, I couldn’t fall asleep after that. I kept imagining that wild angry bear from Brother Bear barreling in and just laying total waste to our campsite. I overthought every rustle, sure it would be the last sound I ever heard. I was just about to worry myself to sleep when I heard something…different.

Sounded like something huge, something heavy, moving slowly, like it had all the time in the world. The thing grunted, and each sound sent chills down my spine. Whatever it was, I know it wasn’t human, because it was pitch dark and no one‘s night vision was at a level where they could navigate our campsite without a torch. It came to a stop just outside my tent, right next to my head. I couldn’t breathe, I was so fucking scared. All I could think about was how flimsy the fabric of my tent was, and how easy it would be for anything to reach right through and crush my skull like a grape. Pop my vertebrae like a glow stick. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, it moved on, but I don’t think I ever went to sleep that night. The memory of dread and not being able to see its ominous, hulking mass still makes sleep a challenge on some nights.

On the last day of our trip, we were supposed to hike this beginner trail that was good for sightseeing. We were told to leave our shit behind because the hike was supposed to be a “short” one. At some point the “short” hike turned into extreme sports rock climbing up the side of a small mountain. I had never been rock climbing on an actual mountain before, but I trusted my group leader. By the time we made it down the other side, our group leader realized that we’d taken the wrong trail and were well and truly lost. There was no cell service, and no one was able to tell which direction we had came from. Did I mention we didn’t have climbing gear? I was wearing sandals. Also, there was no “trail”.

We’re about two hours in at this point, stuck at the bottom of a rocky, jagged ravine, hopelessly lost. It was at this point that the reality hit us—we could potentially die here. After freaking out for a little, our group leader picked a direction, and had all of us follow each other in a line to keep us from being separated. They put me and another kid at the front as we were most at risk of falling behind due to inexperience and asthma making it difficult to keep up. I know it was for our safety but I felt so guilty and horrible knowing that I was slowing everyone down.

We eventually found our way back to the top of the mountain, although, because it was in another area, we had to climb down a much rockier side. That shit was so fucking dangerous, looking back. I’m honestly so surprised and grateful that we managed to escape that situation without any injuries and only slightly dehydrated. Our group leader drove us into town and bought us pizza as an apology for almost killing us.

So yeah, bears and hiking safety. Take them seriously. Bring a map. No Cheetos after dusk.