My father passed away three years ago. Heart attack, sudden. There's a lot I wish I'd asked him before he died, but there's one story he told me that I can't stop thinking about. He was a big game hunter. Spent most of his adult life tracking elk, bear, mountain lion. Professional guide for about twenty years, took clients into the Bitterroots, the Rockies, all over Montana and Idaho. He knew the wilderness better than anyone I've ever met. Could track anything, read signs most people wouldn't even notice. That's important context for what I'm about to share. This happened in November of 1979. Late in the season. He was up in the Bitterroot Mountains, solo hunting trip. My uncle was supposed to go with him but backed out last minute. So it was just Dad and his Winchester, you know what I mean? are solid for big game - Carl'
He'd been tracking an elk for most of the morning. Big bull, six-point rack based on the tracks. The trail led him deep into this valley, heavy timber, not a lot of undergrowth. Good visibility between the trees. He said the forest was unusually quiet that day. No birds, no squirrels, nothing. Just the sound of his boots on the frozen ground. Around midday he stopped to rest, found a good spot with a fallen log to sit on. He was maybe a hundred yards from a clearing, had a decent view of the area. That's when he noticed something moving at the edge of the clearing. Or rather, he noticed the air moving. Like heat shimmer, you know? The way air distorts over hot pavement in summer. Except it was November in Montana. Temperature was barely above freezing.
He watched this shimmer for maybe thirty seconds, trying to figure out what he was looking at. And then he realized the shimmer was moving. Not drifting like heat waves would. Moving deliberately. Pacing back and forth along the tree line. He could see the outline of something, but it was like looking through water. The trees and brush behind it were distorted, bent around whatever this thing was. My father was not a man who spooked easily. He'd faced down charging grizzlies, been stalked by mountain lions. But he said this was different. This made his skin crawl in a way nothing else ever had. Because whatever it was, it was clearly aware of him. It stopped pacing and turned toward where he was sitting. solo in the Bitterroots takes courage - Dennis' He couldn't see eyes or a face, but he knew it was looking directly at him, you know what I mean?
[ Story continues in the full game... ]